Chapter 4 - Someone Knew He Would Be on That Plane
Antonio had been twenty-two when his mother died.
For seventeen years, he believed he knew how it happened.
Elena Vitelli had boarded a private aircraft in Rome bound for Geneva.
Halfway through the flight, she suffered what Samuel Vitelli described as a catastrophic medical event.
The aircraft diverted.
She died before landing.
There had been no autopsy.
Vittorio had refused one.
“My father believed Samuel,” Antonio said.
They stood inside the stripped aircraft while rain tapped against the hangar roof.
“He was his brother.”
Evelyn looked at the passenger manifest.
“Was this the same aircraft?”
“Yes.”
“614?”
Antonio nodded.
Evelyn felt the pieces shifting.
“Your mother died on this airplane. My father later hid evidence inside it.”
“Yes.”
“And seventeen years later, you almost died in the air after medication prepared by the same doctor failed.”
Antonio’s eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
Marco’s laptop chimed.
“I recovered part of the recording.”
Thomas Foster’s voice returned.
“…Samuel knows. Someone inside the family is moving money, and if Vittorio discovers who, Elena believes Samuel will destroy everything before allowing the truth to surface.”
Static.
Then Thomas again.
“She gave me copies. I moved them to 614 because she said nobody would search the aircraft after—”
The recording broke.
Evelyn whispered, “After what?”
Marco worked at the keyboard.
Nothing.
Antonio turned away.
His mother had known.
Maybe she had tried to expose Samuel.
Maybe her death had never been natural.
But there was still a missing person.
Someone inside the family.
Samuel was not working alone.
They spent the night examining the documents.
By sunrise, they had discovered a network of shell companies that had moved millions of dollars away from Vittorio’s legitimate businesses.
The signatures pointed toward Samuel.
But another authorization appeared beside his.
Initials.
L.V.
Antonio recognized them immediately.
“Lorenzo Vitelli.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Who?”
“My cousin.”
Samuel’s son.
Marco swore quietly.
Lorenzo had spent most of his adult life presenting himself as the harmless member of the family.
Charity boards.
Luxury hotels.
Art foundations.
He had also been one of the few relatives who knew Antonio’s exact travel schedule.
“Where is Lorenzo now?” Evelyn asked.
Marco checked his phone.
“Rome.”
Antonio looked toward him.
“Does he know we’re here?”
“He knows you were diverted to Shannon.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Marco hesitated.
“Probably.”
Antonio walked toward the hangar doors.
Evelyn followed.
“What are you going to do?”
“Ask him.”
“That sounds like a terrible plan.”
Antonio turned.
“You have a better one?”
“Yes. Police.”
Marco looked away, almost amused.
Antonio did not.
“You think I should walk into a police station with financial records connecting my family to decades of hidden transactions?”
“Yes.”
“That would create problems.”
“Antonio, someone tried to kill you.”
“Allegedly.”
Evelyn stared.
“You almost stopped breathing in front of me.”
“That part isn’t alleged.”
Despite herself, she laughed once.
Antonio’s expression softened.
Then Marco interrupted.
“Problem.”
He held up his phone.
Security footage from Evelyn’s hotel in Shannon showed a maintenance worker outside her room.
Facial recognition had identified him.
Matteo Rinaldi.
Former employee of a security company controlled by Lorenzo Vitelli.
Evelyn stopped smiling.
“He followed us?”
“Probably.”
Antonio’s face hardened.
“Where is he?”
“No one knows.”
Evelyn suddenly remembered the photograph outside her apartment.
“Was he in New York?”
Marco checked.
Two minutes later, he had an answer.
“Yes.”
The same man had entered the United States four days before Antonio’s flight.
Someone had been watching Evelyn before Antonio ever boarded.
Why?
The answer arrived from New York that afternoon.
Evelyn’s apartment had been broken into.
Nothing valuable was taken.
The intruder had searched one place.
A storage box containing her father’s belongings.
Evelyn sat silently after the call.
Antonio watched her.
“What was in it?”
“Photographs. Tools. Old notebooks.”
“Anything important?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Think.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Then remembered.
“A key.”
Antonio leaned forward.
“What kind?”
“Small brass key. My father wore it around his neck for years. After he died, I kept it.”
“What did it open?”
“I never knew.”
Marco asked, “Was it taken?”
Evelyn called the detective.
Yes.
The key was gone.
Antonio stood.
“Lorenzo knows what it opens.”
Evelyn felt anger replace fear.
“Then we find him before he uses it.”
They did not have to.
Lorenzo found them.
That evening, an invitation arrived at Antonio’s hotel.
Dinner.
Villa Vitelli.
Samuel and Lorenzo would both be there.
Marco wanted Antonio to refuse.
Antonio accepted.
Evelyn thought he was insane.
Then she realized he intended to bring her.
“No.”
“You said you wanted answers.”
“I do.”
“Then come.”
“To dinner with two people who may have tried to kill you?”
Antonio considered the wording.
“When you say it like that, it sounds unfriendly.”
“It is unfriendly.”
Yet she went.
Villa Vitelli stood on a hill outside Rome surrounded by cypress trees and old stone walls.
Samuel Vitelli greeted them at the entrance.
He was seventy-one, silver-haired, elegant, and gentle in the way only extremely dangerous or extremely kind men could afford to be.
“Antonio.”
“Uncle.”
Samuel embraced him.
Then looked at Evelyn.
His smile disappeared for half a second.
That was enough.
“You know me,” Evelyn said.
Samuel recovered.
“I know who you are.”
“How?”
“Your father.”
Antonio watched closely.
Samuel sighed.
“Thomas was a good man.”
“He never mentioned you.”
“That may have been wise.”
Dinner was served in a long room overlooking the gardens.
Lorenzo arrived late.
He was younger than Antonio, handsome, charming, apparently relaxed.
He kissed Samuel on the cheek.
Then looked at Evelyn.
“Ms. Foster.”
She had never told him her name.
Antonio noticed.
“So,” Antonio said quietly, “you know her too.”
Lorenzo smiled.
“Everyone knows the woman who saved you.”
“Not before yesterday.”
Silence.
Lorenzo reached for his wine.
Samuel interrupted.
“Enough.”
Antonio looked at his uncle.
“Why was Evelyn’s photograph inside my medication case?”
Samuel’s face changed.
“What?”
“Don’t.”
“I prepared that case myself.”
“Exactly.”
Samuel stood.
“I did not put a photograph inside it.”
Antonio remained seated.
“Then who did?”
Samuel looked at Lorenzo.
For the first time, Lorenzo stopped smiling.
Evelyn saw it.
So did Antonio.
Then Samuel said something no one expected.
“Antonio, you need to leave Rome tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother made the same mistake you’re making.”
Antonio rose slowly.
“What mistake?”
“She discovered the truth.”
Lorenzo slammed his glass onto the table.
“Father.”
Samuel ignored him.
Antonio stepped closer.
“What truth?”
Samuel’s eyes filled with something that looked remarkably like shame.
“I spent seventeen years protecting you from it.”
“Protecting me?”
“Yes.”
“By replacing my medication?”
Samuel recoiled.
“I did no such thing.”
“Then who did?”
Samuel looked again at his son.
Lorenzo stood.
“Careful.”
Samuel’s voice shook.
“Your mother didn’t die because of me, Antonio.”
Antonio’s face became stone.
Samuel continued.
“She died because she discovered what Lorenzo had done.”
Evelyn stared at Lorenzo.
He laughed.
“I was twenty-three.”
Samuel looked sick.
“You were old enough.”
“To do what?” Antonio demanded.
Samuel answered.
“Steal from Vittorio.”
Lorenzo’s smile disappeared.
“And when Elena found the accounts,” Samuel continued, “Lorenzo panicked.”
Antonio moved toward his cousin.
Evelyn caught his arm.
Not forcefully.
Just enough.
Antonio stopped.
Samuel looked at Evelyn.
“Your father helped Elena gather evidence.”
“Then why didn’t he expose it?”
“He tried.”
Samuel’s voice dropped.
“And that is why Thomas Foster died.”
The room went completely silent.
Evelyn released Antonio’s arm.
She stared at Samuel.
“My father died in a car accident.”
Samuel slowly shook his head.
“No.”
Lorenzo backed toward the door.
Antonio noticed.
“Marco.”
Marco moved instantly, blocking the exit.
Samuel looked at Evelyn.
“Your father was killed because he knew where Elena hid the final proof.”
Evelyn could barely breathe.
“The brass key.”
Samuel’s eyes widened.
“You have it?”
“Someone stole it yesterday.”
Everyone looked toward Lorenzo.
He said nothing.
And Evelyn suddenly understood.
Lorenzo had not invited them to dinner to negotiate.
He had invited them because he already possessed the key.
May you like
Whatever Thomas Foster had hidden seventeen years ago, Lorenzo was going to retrieve it that night.
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