Chapter 8 - THE BOARDROOM AMBUSH
Marco survived.
The bullet entered below his shoulder and missed major arteries.
Whoever fired it either had terrible aim or wanted him alive.
Julian suspected the second.
The boardroom was locked down.
Police searched Rossi Tower.
Stefano had vanished through a private executive stairwell installed decades earlier.
Only three people knew the access code.
Stefano.
Julian.
And Marco.
At the hospital, Marco finally asked to speak.
No lawyers.
No family.
Only Julian.
Elena refused to let Julian go alone.
So she sat beside him, one hand on her stomach, while the man who had helped erase her stared at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Marco whispered.
Elena’s expression did not move.
“That word is very popular in your family.”
Marco shut his eyes.
Julian leaned forward.
“My father.”
Marco swallowed.
“My father owed money.”
“To Stefano?”
“To people Stefano knew.”
“How much?”
“Twenty million.”
Julian stared.
“Your father never had that kind of debt.”
“Gambling. Private loans. Bad investments.”
“What did Stefano want?”
“Access.”
“To?”
“Antonio’s office.”
Julian stopped breathing.
Marco had been twenty-three when Antonio died.
Young.
Already working in finance.
“I gave him my badge.”
Julian whispered:
“You helped them get to Dad.”
“I didn’t know they were going to kill him.”
“Did Stefano?”
“I thought so for years.”
Elena asked:
“What changed?”
Marco looked at her.
“Six months ago I found the old marina logs.”
Julian leaned forward.
“What logs?”
“Boat-service access.”
“Who boarded Dad’s yacht?”
Marco’s eyes filled with fear.
“Dr. Wells.”
The family physician.
The missing doctor.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else?”
Marco hesitated.
“Bianca.”
Julian looked away.
Elena’s hand found his.
Not forgiveness.
Support.
There was a difference.
Marco continued.
“And one more person.”
“Who?”
“I never saw the name. Only an authorization code.”
“What code?”
“A17.”
Dante, standing near the door, went completely still.
Julian noticed.
“You know it.”
Dante said nothing.
“Dante.”
“It was your father’s private security designation.”
“For whom?”
Dante looked toward Marco.
“Only Antonio could assign A-series clearance.”
“Who had A17?”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“I don’t know.”
“You were head of security.”
“The file was sealed above my access.”
Julian laughed without humor.
“So everyone knows half the truth.”
Marco closed his eyes.
“There’s more about the merger.”
“What?”
“Halcyon isn’t the buyer.”
Julian stared.
“Of course Halcyon is the buyer.”
“No.”
Marco swallowed.
“It’s the front.”
“For whom?”
“An offshore consortium.”
“Controlled by?”
“I never got the final ownership schedule.”
Elena spoke.
“But Stefano did.”
Marco nodded.
“He wanted the trust assets moved before Schedule Nine exposed the actual buyer.”
Julian’s phone buzzed.
Evelyn Harcourt.
He answered.
“Julian.”
Her voice was strained.
“Someone accessed Antonio’s vault.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“We took the documents.”
“Not all of them.”
Julian looked at Dante.
“What was left?”
“A sealed secondary compartment.”
Dante’s face changed.
“You never mentioned one.”
“I didn’t know it existed until the alarm opened the audit log.”
“What was inside?”
“We don’t know.”
“Who accessed it?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Bianca’s key.”
Julian stopped.
His mother was in a secure room down the hall.
Or was supposed to be.
He ran.
The room was empty.
A nurse stood outside confused.
“She said she was going to the restroom.”
Julian called her.
No answer.
Elena appeared behind him.
“Where did she go?”
Julian looked at the phone.
Then another message arrived.
From Bianca.
I AM SORRY.
DON’T FOLLOW ME.
A photograph followed.
Bianca sat inside a car.
Stefano was beside her.
But he was not holding her hostage.
She was holding a gun on him.
Julian stared.
“What is she doing?”
Another message.
YOUR FATHER LEFT ONE THING STEFANO NEVER FOUND.
IF I CAN GET IT BEFORE A17 DOES, NOAH WILL BE SAFE.
Elena froze.
“Noah?”
Julian looked at her.
“We never told anyone the name.”
Elena’s face drained.
They had chosen Noah years ago during a conversation about hypothetical children.
A private conversation.
Before the pregnancy.
Before she disappeared.
Nobody else knew.
Dante spoke quietly.
“Someone has been listening longer than eight months.”
Julian looked at him.
“Who is A17?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice said:
“Tell Julian his mother has ten minutes.”
The line ended.
Julian turned.
“Where?”
Dante checked the trace.
His face went pale.
May you like
“The marina.”
The same marina where Antonio Rossi died.
