Chapter 3 - THE LETTER CARMELA NEVER GOT TO DELIVER
Carmela’s letter was dated two days before the ambush.
Dante sat at her desk while I stood near the doorway with Sophia in my arms.
I should have left.
But he asked me to stay.
Not as staff.
As a witness.
His hands trembled as he unfolded the paper.
Dante,
I pray I’m wrong.
His jaw tightened.
Victor has been lying about the northern accounts.
Dante looked toward his security chief.
“Bring me every financial record Victor has touched in the last three years.”
The man nodded and left.
Dante kept reading.
I found payments to men connected to the Ferraro family. At first, I thought Victor was buying information.
Then I found security schedules.
My stomach tightened.
Carmela had discovered someone was selling access to Dante’s movements.
The ambush that killed her had happened outside a charity luncheon.
She wasn’t supposed to be in the car.
Dante was.
At the last minute, he changed plans.
Carmela took his vehicle instead.
Everyone said she died because fate made a mistake.
Now it appeared somebody had known the route.
Dante swallowed.
The letter continued.
Victor says the transfers are approved by your uncle Matteo.
Dante’s expression changed.
Father Matteo.
The old man Sophia had seen near the locked door.
I don’t believe him.
Matteo warned me years ago that Victor was too ambitious.
Dante stopped reading.
I watched the betrayal settle across his face.
Victor Salerno had served the Falcone family for twenty years.
He was there when Dante’s father died.
He helped Dante take control.
He stood beside him at Carmela’s funeral.
And every afternoon at four, Victor quietly cleared the hallway while Dante walked past his dead wife’s room.
My stomach turned.
Then Dante reached the final paragraph.
His face went pale.
“What?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked toward me.
“Carmela says Victor wasn’t working alone.”
I tightened my hold on Sophia.
“Who?”
Dante read the final line aloud.
The person helping him has access to the household staff, the medical records, and every child who enters this house.
My blood went cold.
Children.
Sophia.
Dante’s eyes moved toward my daughter.
Then he looked at me.
“Rosa, how long have you been bringing Sophia here?”
“About four months.”
“Who knew?”
“Patricia. The kitchen staff. Security.”
“And Victor?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophia touched my cheek.
“Mommy scared?”
I forced a smile.
“A little.”
She looked toward Dante.
“He protect us.”
Dante closed his eyes for one second.
Then he stood.
“I will.”
The promise should have comforted me.
Instead, it frightened me.
Because I knew promises from powerful men often came with consequences.
Then one of the guards returned.
“Boss.”
Dante looked up.
“We checked Victor’s office.”
“And?”
The guard held up a tablet.
“There are photographs.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
He turned the screen.
Sophia.
At the estate gates.
In the kitchen.
Sleeping against my shoulder in the staff room.
Dozens of photographs.
Taken over months.
Then came the final image.
Me.
Leaving a hospital.
Beside a woman in a wheelchair.
My mother.
Underneath the photograph was a note:
BENNETT WOMAN MAY KNOW ABOUT CARMELA’S FILE.
I stared.
May you like
I had never met Carmela.
At least, I didn’t think I had.
