Chapter 13: The Timecode

Elena had said, I need the original log. Rocco blocked the Moretti gate beneath the rain, two men at his back. "Mrs. Moretti says you are not to enter the media wing," he said. I stopped close enough to see rain bead on his collar. "The house has a record tied to a crime against Elena Vale. Move." "It is old family material." "That is exactly why you are afraid of it." His eyes flicked toward the upper windows. The movement was small. It told me she was listening. My phone vibrated with a hospital update. Noah had woken once, asked for Elena, and gone back to sleep. Stable, the nurse had written. The word only made the distance between that bed and this house feel like punishment. I put the phone away. "If that log burns, it belongs in the record beside the transport band and the watcher on my son's chart. Is that the statement you want the police to take from you?" Rocco's mouth flattened. Then the front door opened behind him. Vittoria stood beneath the carved lintel in a black silk robe, dry while rain blew across the steps. Coffee warmed one hand. "You broke a board meeting to chase a ghost," she said. "You called a board vote while Noah was under anesthesia." "I protected the foundation from your panic." "You protected your leverage." For the first time, her smile lost its shape. She came down one step. "Elena has made you sentimental. It is a temporary illness." "No." I walked past Rocco before he could decide whether to stop me. "Elena made me late to the truth." Behind me, my mother said, "Dante. Do not make one frightened woman's accusation larger than your family." I kept walking. "If you force that door," Vittoria said, close behind me now, "I will strip you of every house and man carrying your name." I put my hand on the brass bolt. "Then I will know what your name costs." The media room sat at the end of the west hall, behind a walnut door usually kept open for parties and closed for secrets. This morning it was barred with an old brass crossbolt. Not a digital lock. Not an accident. Rocco moved after me. "Mrs. Moretti ordered the room sealed." "Then she expected me to find something." I caught the bolt and shoved it free. Rocco grabbed my shoulder. I turned, pinned his wrist against the doorframe, and held him there long enough for the others to understand the choice. "You can protect a woman who wants a sick child controlled," I said quietly, "or you can protect the house you have served all your life. Pick one." His face changed. Not loyalty. Shame. He stepped back. Inside, the room had been stripped bare. Wedding albums lay scattered across the floor. But the smell beneath the dust was fresh smoke. I followed it through the service door to the old kitchen. Mina stood beside the ash bin, holding a bundle over the fire. Its edge had already blackened. "Give it to me," I said. She looked at Vittoria behind me. "Mina, burn it." The girl shoved the bundle down. I caught her wrist before the paper fell; flame curled over my knuckles. I tore the strip free and slapped the burning edge against the wet tile until the fire died. My hand shook from the burn. "Your master key released the lie." Vittoria's eyes went cold. "You have no idea what this house protects." It was the paper record of who approved the wedding video's release. Most of the strip was ruined. One section had survived, folded tight beneath the clerk's rubber band. 19:14:07. Below it, in red ink, was the master key: A-0. Only the head of the Moretti house could release a video, and Bianca had never held it. Someone inside this house had approved the lie. Rocco stared at the stamp. "A-0 is the master key. Bianca never had it." EXPORT RELEASED FROM MORETTI MAIN HOUSE. My mother reached for the strip. I closed my fist around it. "That proves nothing," she said. "It proves Bianca needed someone above her inside this house." The enemy was not just a jealous bride. It controlled the house itself. "And it proves someone tried to destroy the trail this morning." Her face went still. "You would hand a private family record to Elena?" "It is her record. Her wedding. Her life you helped turn into a weapon." I photographed the strip only long enough to preserve the timestamp, then sealed the original in the evidence envelope I had brought from the hospital. On the front, I wrote Elena Vale and Ms. Reyes, Independent Advocate. I did not send it through Moretti security. I handed it to Rocco. "Take this to the hospital. Put it in Elena's hand, or Ms. Reyes's. No one else touches it." He stared at the envelope. "Yes, sir," he said. My mother stepped close. "You have only learned that the enemy was invited inside." Rocco walked out carrying the proof. My phone buzzed: Elena says Noah asked for you. Smoke marked my palm. Whoever held A-0 knew where Noah was before he could speak—and still lived inside our walls.