Chapter 5 - The Fourth Man
“Tony always said his daughter would find the truth.”
Elena stepped into the doorway.
Behind her stood a retired detective named Samuel Price.
Isabelle remembered him.
He had attended her father's funeral.
Price had investigated Antonio's death.
And apparently never stopped.
Robert Kane tried to escape through the upper floor.
He didn't get far.
Price had called federal investigators before arriving.
Within minutes, the building was surrounded.
Robert was arrested.
But the ledger created a larger problem.
It implicated bankers, executives, lawyers, and at least two retired police officers.
For Isabelle, however, none of that erased what happened beneath the chandelier.
The following morning, she sat across from Damien in a private hospital room.
Doctors had checked her and the baby.
Both were physically safe.
Damien sat near the window.
He looked smaller without an audience.
“I don't expect forgiveness,” he said.
“Good.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
He nodded.
Isabelle studied him.
For years she had loved him.
Part of her still did.
That was the painful thing nobody told you about betrayal.
Love didn't disappear just because someone became undeserving of it.
Sometimes it stayed.
And you had to leave anyway.
“I want a divorce.”
Damien closed his eyes.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No threat.
No performance.
“I'm going to cooperate with the financial investigation,” he said.
“You should.”
“I forged your signature.”
“Yes.”
“I hid assets.”
“Yes.”
“I cheated.”
“Yes.”
His voice cracked.
“And I hit you.”
Isabelle looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“I'll never ask you to pretend that didn't happen.”
“Good.”
Damien stood.
He placed his wedding ring on the table.
Then left.
Isabelle stared at it.
Marco entered five minutes later carrying coffee.
“He gone?”
“Yes.”
“You okay?”
“No.”
Marco sat beside her.
“Good answer.”
She smiled despite herself.
For the first time since the gala, she cried.
Not because Damien deserved her tears.
Because the life she thought she had deserved mourning.
Marco held her.
Hours later, Price arrived.
They had decrypted Vanessa's flash drive.
Robert Kane had been transferring money through Damien's failing companies.
Damien had believed he was hiding his own losses.
In reality, Robert had been using those transactions to revive Victor Hale's old laundering network.
“Damien was both guilty and manipulated,” Price explained.
Isabelle frowned.
“Those aren't mutually exclusive.”
“No.”
She appreciated that.
Nobody was going to turn Damien into an innocent victim simply because someone worse existed.
Price placed a photograph on the table.
“Robert wasn't running the operation.”
“Who was?”
“We don't know.”
“But?”
“He called someone immediately after Damien slapped you.”
Isabelle stared.
“Why?”
“Because the gala created a problem.”
“The phones.”
“Exactly. Hundreds of recordings. Too much attention.”
Price showed her a transcript.
ROBERT: We have a problem.
UNKNOWN: The girl?
ROBERT: Damien hit her publicly. Brothers arrived.
UNKNOWN: Then accelerate.
ROBERT: And the ledger?
UNKNOWN: She'll lead us to it.
Isabelle felt cold.
“They wanted me to find the locker.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We think they didn't know exactly where your father hid the ledger.”
So the threats had been bait.
Every move had been watched.
“Who is the unknown caller?”
Price hesitated.
“We traced the number.”
“To whom?”
“Your family.”
Marco stood.
“What?”
Price placed a second document on the table.
The number was registered through a Marchetti company.
Marco stared.
“That could be anyone.”
“Agreed.”
“But somebody had access.”
“Yes.”
Isabelle thought about her brothers.
Her mother.
Executives.
Employees.
Then she remembered something.
The anniversary gala invitation list had been private.
Yet Robert knew exactly when to be there.
“Who organized the gala?”
Marco looked at her.
“Damien's office.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I hired the planner. But someone from our family approved the security.”
Marco's expression changed.
“Enzo.”
Silence.
They called him.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Luca tried.
Nothing.
Then Isabelle received a message from Enzo.
I'M SORRY.
Another followed.
I THOUGHT I WAS PROTECTING YOU.
Then:
DON'T COME HOME.
Marco was already moving.
Isabelle's phone buzzed one final time.
A photograph loaded.
Enzo was sitting in a chair.
May you like
Someone stood behind him.
And resting on the table in front of her brother was their father's missing wedding ring...
