Chapter 8 - The Man Behind the Door
Adrian did not ask permission to be angry.
He asked permission to act.
“Do you want Raffaele brought here?”
Elena shook her head immediately. “No.”
“Do you want Mara to know?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me in the room when you tell her?”
Elena looked at him for a long moment. “Yes.”
It was the first time she had asked him to stay.
Mara returned before noon. Elena described the assaults in a steady voice until she reached the rehearsal night.
Then the words stalled.
Adrian remained six feet away, silent.
Mara did not rush her.
Finally Elena said, “Raffaele held my arms. My father said bruises on my face would embarrass him. So they made sure the dress would cover the rest.”
Mara’s pen stopped.
“Did anyone witness it?”
“My mother.”
Elena laughed bitterly. “She closed the door.”
Mara’s expression stayed professional, but her eyes changed.
“We can seek protective orders and warrants,” she said. “But the conspiracy evidence is larger than the assaults. If Bell is involved, this goes beyond Chicago field office authority.”
Adrian leaned against the wall. “Meaning?”
“Meaning somebody may already be warning them.”
Right then, the estate intercom buzzed.
Dante’s voice came through. “Boss. Front gate.”
“What?”
“You need to see this.”
Security footage filled the kitchen screen.
A woman stood outside the iron gate in a camel coat, alone in the snow.
Elena stopped breathing.
Her mother.
Celia Moretti raised both hands toward the camera.
“I need to speak to my daughter.”
Adrian looked at Elena. “Your call.”
She swallowed. “Let her into the gatehouse. Not the house.”
Ten minutes later, Elena sat across from her mother behind ballistic glass in the estate’s security building. Adrian remained outside the room where Elena could see him but Celia could not.
Celia looked smaller without Victor beside her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Elena’s face hardened. “For which part?”
Celia flinched.
“I came because your father is leaving the country.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“With Raffaele?”
“Yes.”
“And Marcus Kane?”
Celia looked terrified.
“I don’t know.”
Elena leaned forward. “Then why are you really here?”
Her mother reached into her coat.
Security alarms instantly screamed.
Adrian burst through the side door.
Celia pulled out—not a weapon—but a small brass key.
May you like
She pushed it across the table.
“Because Victor has a room under the old Moretti warehouse,” she said. “And if he reaches it before you do, every name on that phone disappears.”
