Chapter 10 - UNCLE VICTOR’S REAL GAME
Victor was not Noah’s captor.
He was his shield.
That became clear when the video continued.
Victor stepped into frame and looked directly at the camera.
“Dante, if you’re seeing this, Black Crown has access to the relay.”
Then the image jerked.
Another person was controlling the transmission.
Victor spoke faster.
“Noah is safe for now. Do not trust the wedding venue. Do not trust the chapel records. And do not—”
The feed cut.
Paolo traced the stream.
Not enough.
But one detail mattered.
The room behind Victor had exposed brick and an old iron window.
I knew it.
An abandoned Moretti warehouse in Red Hook.
We went with a small team.
No dramatic convoy.
No sirens.
No public war.
The warehouse was empty when we arrived.
But Victor had left evidence.
A paper ledger.
A burner phone.
And a wedding seating chart.
Certain names were circled.
Dominic.
Paolo.
Julian.
Mara.
Vivien.
Me.
Everyone close enough to alter Black Crown’s succession review.
Then I found Noah’s handwriting on a cardboard box.
UNCLE VICTOR IS GOOD.
Beneath it:
THE BAD MAN SMELLS LIKE ORANGES.
A child’s clue.
Meaningless until Vivien arrived and went white.
“Samuel.”
“Vale?”
She nodded.
“He always carried orange clove lozenges.”
“But Samuel is dead.”
“No.”
She had seen him six months earlier.
Rome.
Different name.
No beard.
Alive.
Samuel had faked his death.
Just like Marco.
Except for very different reasons.
The burner phone contained one recent call.
To Ravenwood.
Extension 17.
We checked the house map.
There was no Extension 17.
Then Mara remembered the old servants’ telephone exchange in the basement.
Disconnected twenty years earlier.
Paolo opened the panel.
One line was live.
It ran beneath the property to a separate structure.
The original gatekeeper’s lodge.
Unused since my father died.
We entered at dawn.
The lodge was empty.
On the desk sat a bowl of orange clove lozenges.
And beside it, my mother’s missing original ledger.
The final page contained a name.
Not Samuel Vale.
Not Victor.
Not Marco.
Black Crown:
May you like
PAOLO BELLINI.
My chief of security.
