Chapter 2 - THE ROOM WITHOUT WINDOWS
The room had no windows, no clock, and no handle on the inside of the door.
It was furnished like a private library, with leather chairs, dark shelves, and a marble fireplace that had never been used. But two security cameras watched from opposite corners.
Alexander stood across from me with the access card in one hand.
Joseph remained near the door.
Neither man had searched me personally. A female officer had removed the bracelet, checked my dress, and confirmed that I carried nothing else.
It did not make the humiliation easier.
“The boutique delivered the gown at four,” I said. “The bracelet was inside the same garment box.”
Alexander placed the access card on the table.
“The boutique denies sending jewelry.”
“Then someone added it later.”
“Only household staff and security cleared for tonight could access deliveries,” Joseph said.
I looked at him.
“Your hand was on my waist while the transmitter was active.”
His jaw tightened.
“That is not helping you.”
“You pulled me onto the dance floor.”
“I asked you to dance.”
“You didn’t give me much room to refuse.”
Alexander turned toward him.
“That is enough.”
Joseph spread his hands. “You wanted facts.”
“I want useful ones.”
The men stared at each other.
Something existed between them beyond rank. Years of loyalty, shared danger, and unfinished resentment sat beneath every word.
Alexander looked back at me.
“What do you know about the witness ledger?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you heard the name Daniel Marlowe?”
The question struck me with such force that I stopped breathing.
Daniel Marlowe was my father.
He had died when I was sixteen, after his car went off a bridge outside Albany during a winter storm.
The police called it an accident.
My mother never recovered.
“What does my father have to do with this?”
Joseph’s attention sharpened.
Alexander’s voice became careful.
“Answer my question first.”
“You know exactly who he was.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He worked for my family.”
“No. He was an accountant for a shipping company.”
“That company belonged to us.”
I stared at him.
My father had hated organized crime. He refused to watch mob movies because he said they made predators look glamorous.
“He would never work for people like you.”
Pain flickered briefly across Alexander’s face.
“He worked against people like us.”
The door opened.
Vittoria entered without knocking.
“You have spent enough time indulging her.”
Alexander turned.
“This is my investigation.”
“This is my home.”
“It became mine when Father died.”
Her expression hardened.
“My husband did not leave this family so you could risk it for a secretary.”
I looked at Alexander.
He had known my father.
He had hired me without telling me.
The room tilted beneath my feet.
“You knew who I was before the interview.”
Alexander did not deny it.
“Yes.”
Joseph looked away.
The betrayal settled slowly.
Every accidental meeting.
Every time Alexander had appeared near the elevator when I worked late.
Every security detail I had assumed was normal.
Every moment I had mistaken for trust.
“You selected me because of my father.”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“Elena—”
“Did you expect me to find something for you?”
“No.”
“Did you think he left me evidence?”
Vittoria stepped closer.
“Your father stole from this family.”
I faced her.
“My father died with forty-two dollars in his checking account.”
“He stole information.”
Alexander’s voice sharpened.
“Mother.”
She ignored him.
“Daniel Marlowe copied records, names, payments, and private agreements. He compiled them into what our enemies began calling the witness ledger.”
Joseph glanced toward the camera.
“Mrs. Pellegrini, this conversation should stop.”
“No. She deserves to understand why she is dangerous.”
Vittoria looked directly at me.
“Your father planned to give the ledger to federal prosecutors. Then he changed his mind.”
“Why?”
“Because his wife became pregnant.”
My mother had never told me she was pregnant again.
Vittoria continued.
“He tried to disappear. Men from another family found him first.”
I gripped the edge of the chair.
“You said his death was an accident.”
“I said men found him. I did not say they killed him.”
Alexander stepped between us.
“That is enough.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
I looked at him.
“What happened to my father?”
Alexander’s face closed.
“I was nineteen. I heard parts of the story years later.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
“And you believed him?”
“I had no reason not to.”
Vittoria gave a quiet, bitter laugh.
“You always had reasons. You preferred not to see them.”
Alexander turned slowly toward her.
The contempt in her voice was not aimed at me.
It was aimed at him.
Joseph’s phone vibrated. He read the screen, then looked at Alexander.
“We found security footage from the service corridor.”
He placed his phone on the table and played the video.
At 8:14 p.m., a woman in catering clothes entered the coatroom carrying a garment box identical to mine.
Her face remained hidden beneath a cap.
She opened my box, placed the bracelet inside, and slipped the access card into my clutch.
At 8:19, she entered a staff elevator.
At 8:27, the underground archive was breached.
I looked at Vittoria.
“You invited the catering company.”
Her lips thinned.
Alexander studied the footage.
“Joseph, identify her.”
“We’re running facial recognition.”
The door opened again.
A guard stepped inside.
“Sir, we found the woman.”
“Where?”
“In the east garage. She is dead.”
Silence.
Alexander’s expression hardened.
“How?”
“Single gunshot. No weapon nearby.”
My stomach turned.
Vittoria crossed herself.
Joseph’s gaze moved toward me.
The guard continued.
“There’s more. The missing archive case was recovered in her vehicle.”
Alexander exhaled slowly.
“Was the ledger inside?”
“No, sir.”
“What was?”
The guard handed him a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was an old photograph.
Alexander opened it on the table.
My father stood beside Vittoria on the Long Island estate terrace, both of them much younger.
Vittoria was holding a newborn baby.
On the back, someone had written four words.
ALEXANDER DESERVES THE TRUTH.
I looked from the photograph to Alexander.
May you like
He stared at his mother.
“What truth?”
