Chapter 3 – THE CARD IN THE WATCH

My heart stopped beating.

I scrambled across the floor, staring at the broken watch in Luca’s massive hand.

Hidden perfectly beneath a scrape in the stainless steel backing was a tiny, black micro-SD card.

Answer one: Daniel hadn’t hidden the phone. He knew they would look for a phone. He had removed the memory card, glued it to the back of his watch, and let the hospital return it to me right under Vanessa’s nose.

“He knew they would kill him,” I whispered, staring at the tiny black square. “He knew he wouldn’t make it out of the warehouse. He hid it on his body so it would come straight to me.”

Tears spilled hotly down my cheeks. My brave, wonderful husband had used his last moments to ensure the truth survived.

Luca didn’t say a word. He carefully pried the micro-SD card loose with his pocket knife.

“Do you have a laptop?” Luca asked, his voice low and urgent.

I shook my head. “I couldn’t afford one after the funeral. I just have my phone.”

Luca pulled a sleek, encrypted smartphone from his pocket. He popped the SIM tray, inserted the tiny memory card, and booted the device.

We sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor of my cramped room, staring at the small screen.

The file directory opened. There was only one image file.

Luca clicked it.

The screen illuminated a high-resolution photograph of a crumpled, grease-stained invoice.

The header read: ROSSI CUSTOM MECHANICS.

The itemized list was damning: Cut brake lines – 2018 Mercedes S-Class. Payment received in full: $50,000. Authorized by: Vincent Bellini.

Vanessa’s father.

“He ordered the hit,” Luca breathed, his dark eyes tracing the words on the screen as if they were carved in stone. “Vincent Bellini murdered my brother to force a merger.”

Open two: If Vincent Bellini ordered the hit, why did Vanessa say she was desperate for the merger because they were bankrupt? Where did Vincent get fifty thousand dollars to pay a mechanic?

“Luca,” I pointed to a second file in the directory. An audio recording.

“Play it,” Luca commanded.

I tapped the screen.

Static hissed through the speaker, followed by the heavy, echoing sounds of a warehouse.

Then, Vanessa’s voice, clear and panicked.

“Dad, we can’t pay the mechanic! The accounts are frozen! If Michael looks at the books tomorrow, he’ll see we’re insolvent!”

A deep, older voice answered. Vincent Bellini.

“Michael won’t look at the books tomorrow, Vanessa. He won’t look at anything ever again.”

“But the mechanic wants his fifty grand tonight! Where did you get the money?”

“I didn’t get it from our accounts, Vanessa. I got it from Dominic.”

Luca’s hand clamped down on my wrist, his grip like iron.

“Dominic,” Luca whispered, the name tearing out of him like a physical wound.

I looked at him, terrified by the sudden, absolute devastation in his eyes.

“Who is Dominic?” I asked softly.

“My underboss,” Luca said, his voice entirely hollow. “My best friend. He’s been my right hand for ten years.”

The reality crashed down on us. Vincent Bellini hadn’t acted alone. He was broke. The hit on Michael was funded by someone inside Luca’s own family.

Dominic had paid to murder Michael, using the Bellini family’s desperation as a cover, to clear his own path to power within the syndicate.

Before Luca could process the betrayal, his encrypted phone vibrated in his hand.

An incoming call.

The caller ID flashed on the screen: DOMINIC.

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