Chapter 5 - THE LIEUTENANT WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Rocco saw the photograph in my hand.
His expression didn't change.
That frightened me more than panic would have.
“Explain,” I said.
He looked at the picture.
Then at me.
“Gabriel asked me to meet him.”
“When?”
“Two days before the warehouse fire.”
“Why?”
Rocco swallowed.
“He thought someone was stealing from the family.”
I stared.
“Who?”
“I didn't know.”
I stepped closer.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because Gabriel made me promise.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My brother is dead.”
“I know.”
“And you kept his secrets?”
Rocco looked away.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
The words made my blood run cold.
Everyone in my life seemed to believe betrayal could be renamed protection.
I placed the photograph on the desk.
“Tell me everything.”
Rocco sat.
For the first time since I'd known him, he looked old.
“Gabriel discovered that shipments were being diverted through a company called Voss Maritime.”
I frowned.
“Voss?”
He nodded.
“Adrian Voss's family business.”
The private investigator following Elena.
The man connected to Vivien.
My stomach tightened.
Rocco continued.
“Gabriel believed someone was using our shipping network to move weapons and stolen pharmaceuticals.”
I stared.
“Who authorized it?”
“He couldn't prove it.”
“And the Bellinis?”
Rocco looked at me.
“They were involved.”
I swallowed.
“Then why hide the information?”
“Because Gabriel believed the traitor was inside the Duca family.”
The room went silent.
I looked toward the cabinet.
“What did he leave?”
Rocco shook his head.
“I never knew.”
I studied him.
He looked exhausted.
But not frightened.
I had known Rocco since I was a teenager.
He'd taught me how to drive.
How to recognize a lie.
How to survive the world my father built.
If he was betraying me, he'd had twenty years to learn exactly how.
I opened Gabriel's notebook.
The first pages contained shipping schedules.
Names.
Dates.
Numbers.
Then I found a sentence underlined twice.
THE BRIDE IS THE BRIDGE.
My heart stopped.
The bride.
Vivien.
I looked at Rocco.
“Gabriel died four years ago. I met Vivien eighteen months ago.”
Rocco frowned.
“Then he wasn't talking about her.”
I stared at the page.
Unless Gabriel had been referring to someone else.
Someone who'd been a bride four years earlier.
I turned the page.
There was a photograph.
My father.
A younger Isabella.
Gabriel.
And a woman in a white wedding dress.
I recognized her.
Vivien's mother.
Cassandra Vale.
May you like
And beneath the photograph, Gabriel had written:
CASSANDRA NEVER DIED.
