Chương 6
Anna relaxed slightly.
“Good.”
Matteo nodded.
Then he noticed Lily standing a few feet behind her mother.
She was holding the rabbit again.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He turned.
“Yes?”
“Are you still mad?”
The question followed him everywhere now.
Not because Lily kept asking.
Because he realized how many people around him had probably wondered the same thing without saying it.
He crouched slightly.
“No.”
She looked at him carefully.
“Not even a little?”
A small breath escaped him.
Almost a laugh.
“I’m still mad.”
Her face changed.
“But I’m mad at the right people.”
Lily seemed to accept that.
Children understood fairness better than adults sometimes did.
He stood.
“I’ll be back.”
Anna watched him leave.
There was something different in her expression now.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But maybe the beginning of it.
The drive to the warehouse was quiet.
Matteo sat in the back seat, looking through the documents Norah had sent.
The numbers created a pattern.
Small transfers.
Delayed approvals.
Payments moved between accounts.
Nothing obvious enough to trigger alarms.
That was the point.
The theft was not built on one large action.
It was built on people assuming nobody would look closely.
His driver, Luca, glanced at him through the mirror.
“Everything okay?”
Matteo kept reading.
“No.”
Luca waited.
He had worked with Matteo long enough to know silence was often an answer.
After a minute, Luca spoke again.
“Do you want me to call anyone?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Matteo looked out the window.
The city moved past them.
People walking dogs.
A couple arguing near a crosswalk.
A delivery worker carrying boxes.
Thousands of ordinary lives continuing while his own became more complicated.
“Not yet,” Matteo said.
Luca nodded.
He did not ask why.
That was one reason Matteo trusted him.
The warehouse office had been closed for months except for storage.
The lights were on when they arrived.
That was enough.
Matteo stepped out of the car.
Luca followed.
Inside, the air smelled like dust and old paper.
The front desk was empty.
A printer sat unplugged in the corner.
Someone had rushed out recently.
A coffee cup remained beside a stack of folders.
The coffee was still warm.
Matteo stopped.
He looked at the cup.
Then at the open office door.
Someone had not left.
Someone had been interrupted.
A sound came from inside.
A chair moving.
Matteo walked forward.
“Marco.”
Silence.
Then a voice.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Matteo entered the room.
Marco Bellini’s assistant sat behind the desk.
He looked exhausted.
Not dangerous.
Not confident.
Just trapped.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t find me this quickly,” Marco said.
Matteo closed the door behind him.
“Why?”
Marco looked at the documents in Matteo’s hand.
“Because I don’t think you’re going to like the answer.”
Marco looked at the floor instead of Matteo.
That was the first thing Matteo noticed.
People who were preparing to lie usually looked directly at him.
They tried to control the impression they made.
Marco looked like someone who had already lost control of everything.
“Where is Carlo?” Matteo asked.
Marco rubbed both hands over his face.
“I don’t know.”
“You worked for him.”
“Yes.”
“You helped him manage my accounts.”
“Yes.”
“You helped him move money.”
Marco closed his eyes.
A long silence followed.
Then he nodded.
“Yes.”
Luca shifted slightly behind Matteo.
Not because he was surprised.
Because admitting something and hearing someone admit it were different things.
Matteo pulled out the chair across from the desk and sat down.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not threaten him.
That made Marco more uncomfortable.
“I want the truth,” Matteo said.
Marco laughed quietly.
A tired, bitter sound.
“That’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“The truth is not going to make anyone look good.”
Matteo placed the documents on the desk.
“Start.”
Marco stared at the papers.
“Carlo started moving money almost six months ago.”
“Six.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marco looked toward the window.
The glass reflected his face back at him.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know.”
“Try again.”
Marco swallowed.
“He said he was protecting the company.”
Matteo leaned back.
“From what?”
Marco hesitated.
“Your father’s old obligations.”
The sentence changed the room.
Not because it explained anything.
Because it opened a door Matteo had spent years keeping closed.
“My father?”
Marco nodded slowly.
“Carlo found records.”
“What records?”
“Old debts.”
Matteo stared at him.
“My father has been dead for years.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me Carlo was stealing money because of something from before?”
“I’m telling you what he said.”
Marco’s voice became quieter.
“I don’t know if he believed it.”
The distinction mattered.
People often used old wounds to justify new choices.
Matteo had seen it before.
A person inherited pain and then passed it forward as an excuse.
“What did Carlo find?”
Marco looked uncomfortable.
“Private agreements.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Marco looked exhausted.
“I expect you to think I’m lying.”
“Are you?”
“About some things.”
Matteo waited.
Marco looked at him.
“That’s the part nobody understands.”
“What?”
“When you work around powerful people long enough, you learn something.”
“What?”
“Everyone thinks the danger is the person at the top.”
He tapped the desk.
“But most of the time, the danger is the person who knows where everything is kept.”
The words stayed in the air.
Matteo had built his life around controlling threats.
He had spent years looking outward.
Enemies.
Rivals.
Competitors.
He had not considered that someone inside his own system could quietly reshape reality.
“Why did you help him?” Matteo asked.
Marco looked down.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of Carlo?”
“No.”
“Of me?”
Marco did not answer.
That was an answer.
Matteo looked away.
It was not the first time someone had been afraid of him.
It would not be the last.
May you like
But hearing it from someone who had worked close to him still carried weight.
“What did you think I would do?”
