Chapter 8 - THE TWO MEN WHO KNEW THE TRUTH
Luca Moretti had known Gabriel Alvarez.
That discovery changed everything.
I stared at the photograph Clara had shown me.
My brother stood beside Sophie's father outside a warehouse.
Both men were smiling.
The photograph was dated five years earlier.
Six years after Luca's supposed death.
I felt my chest tighten.
"Luca was there."
Clara looked confused.
"Who?"
"My brother."
She stared.
"The man in the baseball cap?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
Her expression changed.
"Gabriel called him Luke."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
A different name.
A different identity.
Another carefully hidden life.
Marcus leaned forward.
"Clara, did Gabriel ever mention what they were working on?"
She thought for a moment.
"He said they were checking shipment records."
"What kind of shipments?"
"Medical equipment, I think."
I frowned.
"Medical equipment?"
She nodded.
"Gabriel said some containers weren't listed correctly."
A memory surfaced.
Five years earlier, our shipping division had handled a series of unusual medical imports.
The invoices were complicated.
The receiving companies were unfamiliar.
I had left the details to Vincent Cole.
And now Vincent had disappeared.
I felt sick.
"Clara, did Gabriel keep copies?"
She nodded.
"In his notebook."
I looked at her.
"Can we see it?"
She hesitated.
Then said something I hadn't expected.
"Only if an independent investigator is present."
I stared.
She held my gaze.
"My husband died after working for your company. I'm not handing his evidence to someone who might have been involved."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I nodded.
"You're right."
Clara looked surprised.
I continued.
"Your husband's records belong in the hands of investigators. You should have legal protection and a copy of everything."
Her expression softened slightly.
"Thank you."
The following day, Clara gave Gabriel's notebook to a detective assigned to the case.
The pages contained shipping numbers, warehouse codes, and handwritten notes.
Most entries seemed ordinary.
Then one page caught the investigator's attention.
A list of dates.
Container numbers.
And a repeated phrase.
PROJECT SILVER HARBOR.
I stared.
I remembered hearing that name.
My father had once mentioned it during a family meeting.
He called it a private import initiative.
Something involving high-value medical equipment and overseas partners.
But Gabriel's notes told a different story.
Several shipments contained expensive equipment that never reached the hospitals listed on the invoices.
The containers were redirected.
Payments disappeared.
And certain employees who questioned the transactions were suddenly transferred or dismissed.
Gabriel had discovered the pattern.
He had also written down three names.
Vincent Cole.
Isabella Cole.
And Salvatore Moretti.
My father.
I stared at the notebook.
Then I looked toward Marcus.
"Why is my father on this list?"
Marcus's expression darkened.
"Because he started the operation."
I felt my stomach turn.
"What?"
Marcus took a slow breath.
"Your father was involved in Silver Harbor before he died."
I looked down at the names again.
Then noticed a fourth entry.
It wasn't a person's name.
It was a location.
EAST GALLERY — PRIVATE ARCHIVE.
Beneath it, Gabriel had written one final sentence.
If anything happens to me, the truth is behind the painting of the little girl.
I looked up slowly.
May you like
There was only one painting of a little girl in my east gallery.
And Sophie had been hiding beside it on the night she found the black box.
