Chapter 2 - THE WIFE HE NEVER REALLY KNEW
Vivian woke six hours later inside a farmhouse she had never seen before.
She was ninety miles north of the Falcone estate.
No armed guards.
No marble floors.
No cameras hidden behind antique paintings.
Only an old kitchen, rain against the windows, and Antonio Russo making coffee.
“You slept four hours,” he said.
“That’s more than I expected.”
“You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You always say that when you’re frightened.”
Vivian looked at him.
“You haven’t seen me since I was seventeen.”
Antonio placed a cup in front of her.
“Your father talked about you.”
Her chest tightened.
Nathan Bellini had been dead for seven years.
Officially, a drunk driver killed him outside Albany.
Vivian had believed the story.
Until three months earlier, when she found a sealed packet hidden behind the false bottom of her mother’s jewelry box.
Inside were letters.
Bank records.
A photograph of Antonio.
And one sentence written by her father:
If Lorenzo Falcone ever turns against you, find Antonio Russo before the Falcones find him.
Vivian had called Antonio the night before her wedding anniversary.
She had not expected him to answer.
He did.
Now he sat across from her.
“Why did my father think Lorenzo would turn against me?”
Antonio looked toward the window.
“Because your marriage was never supposed to happen.”
She almost laughed.
“Lorenzo explained that part last night.”
“No.”
Antonio shook his head.
“You married because your father wanted you protected.”
“Protected from whom?”
“Lorenzo’s father.”
Vivian went still.
Vittorio Falcone.
The retired patriarch.
A man who treated Vivian with careful politeness but never warmth.
Antonio opened a metal lockbox.
Inside was an old contract.
PROPERTY CONSOLIDATION AGREEMENT.
Two signatures.
Nathan Bellini.
Vittorio Falcone.
Vivian skimmed the pages.
Land.
Construction.
Shipping rights.
Then she found a clause involving inheritance.
“What is this?”
“Your father owned controlling rights to three industrial properties along the Hudson.”
“I know.”
“You know the public version.”
Nathan’s actual holdings included access beneath the properties.
Old service tunnels.
Rail connections.
Storage vaults dating to Prohibition.
Worth almost nothing legally.
Worth everything to an organization moving contraband without inspection.
Vivian looked up.
“The Falcones wanted the tunnels.”
“Vittorio did.”
“So Dad married me to Lorenzo to settle it?”
“No.”
Antonio’s voice hardened.
“Your father refused.”
“Then why did I marry him?”
“Because Nathan died.”
Vivian’s stomach twisted.
Antonio slid another document forward.
Nathan’s will.
The properties went to Vivian.
But only after age thirty.
Until then, a trust controlled them.
Vivian was twenty-nine.
Her birthday was nine weeks away.
“When you turn thirty, every Bellini holding transfers directly to you.”
Vivian’s pulse quickened.
“Lorenzo knows?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But Vittorio does.”
“Yes.”
“And if I die?”
Antonio hesitated.
“Your husband inherits temporary control.”
Cold spread through her.
“Temporary?”
“Long enough to move everything.”
Vivian stood.
“That’s why Dad wanted me protected.”
“Yes.”
“Why Lorenzo?”
Antonio’s expression changed.
“Because Nathan trusted him.”
Vivian laughed bitterly.
“My father was wrong.”
“Maybe.”
“Last night Lorenzo told me he never loved me.”
Antonio studied her.
“Men like Lorenzo say terrible things when they’re afraid.”
“That doesn’t make them untrue.”
“No.”
Antonio reached into the lockbox again.
“Which is why I didn’t bring you here to discuss your marriage.”
He placed a police evidence photograph on the table.
Nathan Bellini lying beside his destroyed car.
Vivian looked away.
Then noticed something.
Her father’s left hand.
A ring was missing.
Nathan always wore a plain gold ring engraved with her mother’s initials.
“Where is it?”
Antonio nodded slowly.
“Exactly.”
He produced another photograph.
Taken three days after Nathan’s death.
Vittorio Falcone stood at a charity dinner.
On his right hand was Nathan Bellini’s ring.
Vivian stopped breathing.
Antonio leaned closer.
“Your father wasn’t killed by a drunk driver.”
“He was killed because he refused to give Vittorio those properties.”
Then Vivian’s phone, powered off on the table, suddenly lit by itself.
One incoming emergency call bypassed every setting.
LORENZO.
Antonio looked at her.
Vivian declined it.
A text appeared immediately.
May you like
DO NOT TRUST RUSSO.
HE KILLED YOUR FATHER.
