Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN BEFORE THE ATTACK
The next morning, Lena woke to the smell of coffee.
Matteo stood at the kitchen counter.
He looked exhausted.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Some.”
She didn't believe him.
He handed her a mug.
Then showed her the photograph.
Lena stared.
It had been taken from across the highway.
The angle captured the diner's front windows.
Her figure was visible behind the counter.
The timestamp read 8:42 p.m.
Thirty-five minutes before the men arrived.
Her stomach tightened.
“Someone was watching me.”
Matteo nodded.
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“I don't know yet.”
Lena studied the message.
WE KNOW WHAT YOU GAVE AWAY.
“What did you give away?”
Matteo looked down.
“Control of the waterfront.”
She stared.
“You sold it.”
“I transferred my interests into a trust.”
“Why?”
“To keep the businesses operating without me.”
She frowned.
“Who controls the trust?”
“An independent board.”
“Who appointed them?”
Matteo hesitated.
“I did.”
Lena sat down.
“Matteo.”
He looked at her.
“Did you ever check what happened after you left?”
Silence.
He had believed walking away was enough.
He had stopped attending meetings.
Stopped reading reports.
Stopped answering calls.
He wanted the past gone.
But the past had continued without him.
“I should have,” he admitted.
Lena looked toward the window.
A black sedan passed slowly.
Her pulse quickened.
Matteo noticed.
He moved toward the window.
The sedan continued down the street.
Lena exhaled.
“I hate this.”
He turned.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Her voice broke.
“I spent three years learning not to be afraid every time a car slowed outside our house.”
Matteo's face softened.
She continued.
“I finally stopped checking the locks three times.”
He approached carefully.
“Lena—”
“And now somebody is taking pictures of me at work.”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn't marry your reputation.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“I married you.”
Matteo took her hands.
“And I'm still here.”
She looked at him.
“Then stay here.”
He understood.
She wasn't asking him to ignore the threat.
She was asking him not to become the man he had once been.
That afternoon, Matteo met with attorney Daniel Price.
Daniel had handled the legal restructuring of the waterfront businesses.
He examined the photograph.
Then frowned.
“Blackwater Transit Protection.”
Matteo nodded.
“You know them?”
Daniel hesitated.
“They've been buying up contracts around the port.”
“From whom?”
Daniel looked at him.
“From the trust.”
Matteo's jaw tightened.
“Who authorized it?”
Daniel opened a folder.
Then went still.
“What?” Matteo asked.
Daniel turned the document toward him.
A signature appeared at the bottom.
MATTEO MARQUEZ.
Matteo stared.
“I didn't sign that.”
Daniel looked up.
“Then someone forged your name.”
Silence.
Matteo felt cold.
For three years, he'd believed the waterfront was no longer his concern.
Now someone was using his identity to move money and control contracts.
And Lena had become the pressure point.
Daniel looked at him.
“Matteo, this isn't just harassment.”
Matteo stared at the forged signature.
“What is it?”
May you like
Daniel swallowed.
“Someone is trying to make you responsible for crimes you didn't commit.”
