Chapter 5 - The Signature That Would Have Destroyed Him
Adrian Vescari had been minutes away from signing away two billion dollars.
He stared at the transfer agreement.
Then slowly lowered himself into his chair.
For years, he'd believed Vincent Moretti was the one man he could trust.
Now the evidence suggested Vincent had been preparing to destroy him.
I stood near the desk.
The attorney reviewed the contract again.
"The signature provision is buried in the French-language appendix."
Adrian looked at me.
"The section Trevor mistranslated."
I nodded.
"And the dockside threat wasn't directed at you alone."
His eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
I pointed toward the original phrase.
"Lucien wasn't merely threatening your inner circle. He was warning that people closest to you would be removed before the assets changed hands."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
"So Vincent planned to eliminate anyone who might object."
"That's one possibility," I answered. "We need evidence."
He studied me.
Then gave a faint smile.
"You're remarkably careful."
"I've spent too much of my life paying for other people's assumptions."
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then his phone rang.
Gabriel Stone, his head of security.
"Boss, Vincent has left the estate."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
"Where?"
"We're working with investigators to establish his movements."
Adrian closed his eyes.
For a moment, I thought he'd order his men to bring Vincent back by force.
Instead, he looked toward his attorney.
"Contact the authorities. Preserve the contracts and communications."
The attorney nodded.
I stared at him.
He noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Say it."
I hesitated.
"I expected you to handle this differently."
Adrian gave a humorless laugh.
"With guns?"
I didn't answer.
He looked toward the window.
"That would've been my first instinct a few years ago."
I remained silent.
Then he continued.
"Paolo is dead. My brother may be alive. Your father is missing. If Vincent is involved, I want the truth established rather than another body."
The honesty surprised me.
Then a message arrived from Lucien Barrot.
Adrian opened it.
A photograph filled the screen.
It showed a small house near the Marseille harbor.
Beside it was an address.
Beneath the image, Lucien had written:
The old bar still remembers Daniel Vale.
My heart tightened.
The old bar.
The place where I'd lived with Dad when I was fifteen.
I remembered the narrow staircase.
The cracked yellow walls.
The sound of sailors laughing downstairs.
And the locked cabinet Dad kept beneath the counter.
Adrian looked at me.
"Does this mean anything?"
I nodded slowly.
"That's where my father kept his records."
"What records?"
I swallowed.
"Everything he didn't want anyone else to find."
Then I remembered something.
A small metal box hidden behind a loose tile.
Dad had shown it to me once.
He told me never to open it unless he failed to come home.
I had forgotten.
Or tried to.
Now I looked at Adrian.
"There's something in that bar."
His eyes sharpened.
"What?"
I took a breath.
"A box."
"And?"
I swallowed.
"My father said it contained the names of the men who owned the docks."
May you like
Then I revealed the part I'd never told anyone.
"He also said one of those men was my real grandfather."
