Chapter 5 - Midnight at St. Vincent’s
Elena slammed the car door and said, “If Elias is alive, I’m going in.”
Victor placed a folded map across the hood.
A black X marked the east crypt.
Someone had drawn it in Margaret Bellandi’s handwriting.
Victor knew because Elena recognized it instantly.
At 11:53 p.m., three black SUVs stopped one block from St. Vincent’s.
No headlights.
No sirens.
No police.
Victor brought Matteo and four trusted men.
Elena came because there had never been any realistic version of events in which she stayed behind.
Victor disliked it.
Accepted it.
Those were not the same thing.
The chapel rose ahead in darkness.
Old brick.
Stone steps.
Narrow windows.
No visible movement.
Victor checked his weapon.
“Elena stays behind me.”
Elena gave him a look.
Matteo looked away so Victor would not see him smile.
“What?” Victor asked.
“I’m not furniture.”
“I know.”
“You keep positioning me like furniture.”
“Furniture is easier.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re still alive.”
“That’s not an argument.”
“In my profession, it’s a strong one.”
Matteo cleared his throat.
“Midnight.”
Victor looked at the chapel.
The main door clicked open.
No one stood behind it.
Elena’s face tightened.
They crossed the street.
Inside, the chapel smelled of wax and old stone.
Rows of empty pews disappeared into shadow.
A single candle burned near the altar.
Beside it sat an envelope.
ELENA.
Victor stopped her before she touched it.
Matteo checked beneath the pew.
No wire.
No pressure trigger.
Victor opened the envelope himself.
Inside was a photograph.
Margaret Bellandi.
Alive.
Sitting beside a man Victor recognized as his father, Antonio Russo.
The timestamp was eight days before Margaret died.
Elena stared.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
“Your father knew my mother?”
Victor looked at the image.
Apparently.
On the back, Margaret had written:
ANTONIO AGREED TO PROTECT THE GIRLS IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME.
Victor read it twice.
Something cold moved through him.
Antonio Russo had died four years ago.
He had never mentioned Margaret.
Never mentioned Elena.
Never mentioned a promise to protect Bellandi’s daughters.
Why?
A sound came from beneath the altar.
Elena turned.
Victor raised a hand.
A panel opened in the floor.
Stone stairs led down.
Of course.
Crypt.
Victor hated predictable rich criminals.
He led.
Elena behind him.
Matteo behind her.
The stairs descended into a narrow underground corridor lined with burial alcoves.
Electric lights buzzed overhead.
Recent.
Someone used this place often.
At the end stood an iron door.
Open.
Victor entered.
A room waited beyond.
Table.
Chair.
Old filing cabinets.
A portable heater.
Coffee still warm.
Someone had left minutes ago.
Elena moved toward the wall.
Photographs covered it.
Her mother.
Elisa.
Elias.
Daniel.
Victor.
Even Elena herself.
Recent pictures.
Leaving the mansion.
Shopping.
Waiting at a bus stop.
Working near the garden.
Victor’s face hardened.
Someone had been watching her for months.
He pulled one photo free.
Elena carrying groceries three weeks earlier.
Taken from inside a car.
The thought of someone tracking her made violence settle comfortably into Victor’s bones.
“Victor.”
Elena’s voice came from the far side of the room.
He crossed to her.
A corkboard held documents.
One page had Margaret’s signature.
Another had Antonio Russo’s.
A third was a contract.
Not business.
Guardianship.
Victor read.
In the event of Margaret’s death, custody of Elena and Elisa would be transferred temporarily to a named attorney pending investigation into their father.
The attorney’s name was Daniel Cross.
Elena stepped backward.
“No.”
Victor kept reading.
Below Daniel’s name, a second signature appeared.
Antonio Russo.
Witness.
“This makes no sense,” Elena said.
“It makes too much sense.”
“My father knew Daniel?”
“Your mother did.”
“Daniel never told me.”
“Maybe because he was already under orders to protect you.”
Elena stared.
“From your father too.”
Victor’s voice became quieter.
Antonio had known.
Had promised protection.
And somehow Elena had spent six years cleaning floors inside Antonio’s son’s mansion without Victor knowing who she was.
Coincidence?
Victor no longer believed in those.
Matteo opened a filing cabinet.
“Boss.”
Victor turned.
Inside were stacks of surveillance records.
Dates.
Locations.
Payments.
At the top: RUSSO RESIDENCE.
Victor’s jaw hardened.
Someone inside his household had been reporting.
He took the file.
Payment dates stretched back eleven months.
No employee name.
Just initials.
M.A.
Elena looked over his shoulder.
“Mrs. Alden?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
Margaret Alden.
His housekeeper.
The woman forced upstairs tonight.
The woman he trusted with his bedroom key.
“No.”
Elena looked at him.
“You sound sure.”
“I am.”
“How?”
Victor looked at the payment schedule.
“Mrs. Alden doesn’t use her first name.”
“What?”
“Her name is Margaret. Everyone calls her June.”
“That proves nothing.”
“No.”
Victor closed the file.
“But someone who knew this house well enough to report security rotations wouldn’t label her M.A. unless they knew her legal name.”
Footsteps sounded above.
Victor signaled.
Everyone went silent.
The iron door moved.
A man entered.
Hooded.
Same height as the figure from the security footage.
Victor aimed.
“Hands.”
The man stopped.
Elena stepped around Victor.
“Elias?”
The man’s shoulders moved.
Slowly, he lowered the hood.
Elena gasped.
Not Elias.
Daniel Cross.
Older.
Scar across one cheek.
Alive.
Elena’s knees almost gave out.
Victor caught her elbow.
Daniel looked at her as if he had imagined this moment a thousand times.
“Hi, Ellie.”
Elena pulled away from Victor and walked toward Daniel.
One step.
Two.
Then stopped.
“You died.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“I saw you burn.”
“You saw someone burn.”
“Six years.”
“I couldn’t come to you.”
“You chose not to.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“You left me alone.”
Daniel took a step closer.
Victor raised his gun slightly.
Daniel stopped.
“Your father had people everywhere.”
“So you watched me?”
Daniel looked at the photographs.
“Yes.”
Elena slapped him.
The sound cracked through the crypt.
Daniel accepted it.
Did not move.
Victor felt no sympathy.
“You had six years to explain,” Elena said.
“I was protecting Elisa.”
Elena froze.
“Where is she?”
Daniel looked at Victor.
Then Matteo.
Then back at Elena.
“Alive.”
The word destroyed whatever strength Elena had left.
Her hand covered her mouth.
“Where?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Elena—”
“Where is my sister?”
“She’s close.”
“How close?”
“Chicago.”
Sofia had been right.
She never left.
Victor stepped forward.
“Why hide her?”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“Because Carlo Bellandi killed Margaret.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“And Elias?” she asked.
Daniel looked away.
That was answer enough.
“No.”
“Elena…”
“No.”
“Elias found evidence after you left.”
“What happened?”
“He confronted your father.”
Elena staggered.
Victor caught her this time.
She did not pull away.
Daniel continued.
“Elias died buying Elisa time.”
Tears slid down Elena’s face.
Victor’s hand settled lightly against her back.
Not ownership.
Support.
Daniel saw it.
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
Then he looked at Victor.
“Antonio knew what Bellandi had done.”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because he didn’t trust you yet.”
Victor’s stare hardened.
Daniel did not flinch.
“He planned to.”
“When?”
“After you took control.”
“He died before that.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked at the papers.
“So you’ve been running this alone.”
“Not alone.”
“Who else?”
Daniel glanced toward the iron door.
“We need to leave.”
Victor’s expression sharpened.
“Why?”
“Because the invitation wasn’t mine.”
Silence.
Elena stared.
“You didn’t call?”
“No.”
“The cuff link?”
“I left that.”
“The message?”
“Yes.”
“The phone call?”
“No.”
Victor immediately understood.
Someone else knew Daniel was alive.
Someone else knew they were coming.
Daniel pulled a pistol.
Matteo raised his.
Victor turned toward the corridor.
A metallic sound echoed from the stairs.
Door locking.
Then another.
A woman’s voice came through an old speaker overhead.
“Elena.”
Elena looked up.
The voice continued.
“You finally came home.”
Daniel went pale.
Victor looked at him.
“Who is that?”
May you like
Daniel whispered one word.
“Elisa.”
