Chapter 6 - THE ESTATE WAS FULL OF MARCO’S PEOPLE
Three names.
A driver.
A kitchen purchasing assistant.
A night maintenance worker.
None were violent criminals.
That almost made it worse.
Ordinary employees.
Placed by Marco.
Paid additional money through outside accounts.
Their jobs were simple.
Report.
Schedules.
Visitors.
Which offices were occupied.
When Vincent traveled.
Whether I received packages.
Whether Noah’s name ever surfaced.
One employee confessed immediately when questioned by independent counsel.
He thought he was providing “executive efficiency reports.”
The second admitted Marco paid him cash.
The third disappeared before questioning.
Vincent closed the estate to nonessential movement.
Again, I reminded him:
“Mia and I are leaving if I want.”
“You are.”
Good.
We stayed.
Not because I trusted the house.
Because for the first time, I knew what was outside it.
Then the forensic team opened Noah’s full spreadsheet.
Marco’s scheme was broader than theft.
He used Vincent’s family name to intimidate small vendors.
“Pay the expedited security fee.”
“Pay consulting.”
“Pay risk management.”
People complied because nobody wanted trouble with Castalano.
The money never reached Vincent.
His reputation had become Marco’s weapon.
Vincent stared at the records for a long time.
“I spent years thinking fear kept people from stealing from me.”
Renzo answered:
“Turns out it kept them from telling you they were being stolen from.”
That sentence changed Vincent’s face.
Then one line appeared.
D. VALE — MONTHLY.
Dominic.
Security.
Paid directly.
Another:
CAMERA OVERRIDE — WEST HALL.
That explained how the flash drive went under the desk.
Dominic could disable cameras.
Then the obvious question:
Why hide the drive beneath Vincent’s desk?
The answer came from metadata.
The drive belonged to Marco.
It contained current surveillance reports and a copy of Noah’s ledger because Marco had been preparing to compare which records might still exist.
He had brought it into the study during an unscheduled meeting.
Dominic hid it when Renzo unexpectedly entered the hallway.
He planned to retrieve it later.
Then a three-year-old followed his shiny shoes.
Mia had cracked the entire operation because she was bored.
Renzo looked at me.
“Remind me to hire toddlers for counterintelligence.”
I almost laughed.
Then Vincent’s phone rang.
Marco.
Everyone became silent.
Vincent answered normally.
“Yes?”
Marco sounded relaxed.
“Dinner at eight?”
Vincent looked toward Renzo.
Then at me.
“Eight is fine.”
Marco had no idea the drive had been found.
No idea Noah’s records were open.
No idea three planted employees had been identified.
Vincent ended the call.
Then Renzo said:
“We can use this.”
I shook my head.
“No ambush.”
Both men looked at me.
“I have a daughter in this house.”
Vincent nodded.
“No violence.”
Then something unexpected happened.
He called his attorney.
Not his guards.
Attorney first.
Then law enforcement contacts handling the financial evidence.
Evidence preservation.
Controlled questioning.
No vigilante punishment.
Maybe the stories about Vincent Castalano were more complicated than I thought.
Then Mia wandered into the doorway holding a cookie.
Everyone stared.
She pointed at Vincent.
“Mad face.”
He closed his eyes.
Renzo laughed.
Then Mia pointed toward the computer.
“That man came to my school.”
My blood froze.
May you like
“Who?”
She pointed directly at Marco Bellini’s photograph.
