Chapter 7 - Marco’s Last Appointment
Paul Conti returned to New Jersey with his attorney.
He did not stay at the estate.
He did not meet Dante alone.
The arrangement would once have offended him.
Now it reassured him.
They met in a conference room at Simone’s office, where Conti placed a battered folder on the table.
“I kept thinking I should have done more.”
Dante looked at him.
“So have I.”
Conti was older than he expected, with careful hands and the slightly stooped posture of someone accustomed to making himself unobtrusive.
He explained the payment structure.
False consulting charges had moved money from the relief trust into businesses controlled through Victor’s associates.
The warehouse transfer would have done more than enrich the Costas.
It would have triggered a final accounting adjustment, clearing old balances against an asset sale and burying discrepancies inside a complicated restructuring.
Isabella had been promised a solution to her father’s debts.
Victor had been buying himself an ending.
“Why now?” Dante asked.
“Because the trust’s outside reporting requirements were changing. The old records would have been examined.”
Simone nodded.
Her own review had reached the same conclusion.
Conti opened the folder.
There were copies of emails Marco sent before he died.
One contained the name of a restaurant.
Another contained an appointment time.
A third was addressed to an attorney who had since retired.
Marco had not intended merely to complain to Dante.
He had begun seeking independent advice.
That had made him harder to dismiss.
The retired attorney, located through professional records, confirmed the appointment had been scheduled.
Marco never arrived.
He had also received a short letter afterward.
It claimed Marco had changed his mind about pursuing “private family concerns.”
The signature resembled his.
Miriam examined it beside letters Dante knew were authentic.
She identified significant inconsistencies and requested the original for a full report.
Another piece.
Not a miracle.
But another piece.
Over the following weeks, investigators connected the old financial scheme to men involved in the restaurant surveillance before Marco’s murder.
One former driver agreed to cooperate.
He had been paid through a company that appeared in Conti’s records.
The account placed Victor in the planning chain.
It would need corroboration.
Some corroboration already existed.
Dante learned these things in careful updates that never moved quickly enough for grief.
Meanwhile, life continued.
Elena took a temporary position at a small catering kitchen.
She no longer wanted to live at the estate.
Dante approved her departure without asking her to stay.
She received the wages owed, a reference describing her work accurately, and no condition attached to either.
When he visited her sister’s house to return a cookbook, Elena met him on the porch.
Sophia waved from inside.
There were toys on the floor and a pot of soup on the stove.
It was crowded.
Warm.
Entirely beyond his control.
“You look tired,” Elena said.
“I am.”
“Have you eaten?”
He almost smiled.
“You’re not responsible for feeding me anymore.”
“I know. I’m asking.”
That difference stayed with him.
She brought him a bowl.
They sat at the small kitchen table while Sophia arranged wooden blocks beside their feet.
Dante noticed that no one went silent when he moved.
No one watched his hands.
Elena asked what he intended to do after the investigation.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s an honest answer.”
“I’m not practiced at it.”
“I noticed.”
He laughed.
The sound surprised Sophia.
She looked up, delighted, as though discovering a new trick.
Dante felt something loosen painfully in his chest.
Then his phone rang.
Simone.
He stepped onto the porch.
“Victor has contacted us through counsel,” she said.
“What does he want?”
“To meet. He claims he can explain the accounts and prevent broader damage.”
“Broader damage to whom?”
“That is the question.”
Dante looked through the window at Elena kneeling to help Sophia rebuild a fallen tower.
For most of his life, family had meant blood, obligation, and silence.
Inside that kitchen, it meant helping someone start again without blaming them for the collapse.
“Arrange the meeting,” he said.
“Under our conditions?”
“Yes.”
“And no private understandings.”
May you like
Dante watched Sophia place the last block.
“No private understandings.”
