Chapter 5 - THE FIRE THAT NEVER MADE THE NEWS|
I stared at the words written beneath the warehouse address.
ASK CLAIRE ABOUT THE FIRE.
For a moment, I couldn't understand why Isabella DeLuca would have written my name.
She had died six years earlier.
I had never met her.
And I hadn't started working at the mansion until six months ago.
Matteo looked at me.
"Claire, what fire?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
"Think."
His voice wasn't harsh, but I could hear the urgency beneath it.
I looked at the silver key in his hand.
Then at the address.
Something about the street name bothered me.
West Fulton Street.
I had heard it before.
Not recently.
Years ago.
I closed my eyes.
And suddenly, I remembered the smell.
Smoke.
Burning plastic.
Wet concrete.
I was eleven years old again, standing outside our apartment building in my pajamas while firefighters carried blackened boxes down the stairs.
I opened my eyes.
"Our apartment."
Matteo frowned.
"What?"
"There was a fire when I was eleven."
Robert moved closer.
"Where?"
"On West Fulton Street."
The room became completely silent.
I swallowed.
"My mother told us it was an electrical fire."
Matteo looked at the address again.
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No."
I hesitated.
"At least, that's what she told us."
Margaret covered her mouth.
Eleanor looked suddenly older.
Matteo noticed.
"Ellie?"
She shook her head.
"Oh, Isabella."
"What?"
Eleanor stared at the silver key.
"She really did plan for everything."
Matteo approached her.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Eleanor took a shaky breath.
"Your mother knew Thomas Bennett had hidden evidence before he died."
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"Evidence of what?"
"Money stolen from the Harbor fund."
Robert's expression darkened.
"How much?"
Eleanor looked at Margaret.
Margaret answered.
"Nearly forty million dollars."
Nobody spoke.
Forty million dollars.
I thought about the photograph of my mother standing outside our tiny apartment.
I thought about her counting coins at the kitchen table.
I thought about Lily wearing secondhand shoes because we couldn't afford new ones.
And somewhere, someone had stolen forty million dollars from families like ours.
Matteo slowly placed the photograph on his desk.
"Who controlled the fund?"
Robert answered.
"Originally, your father and Isabella."
"After my father died?"
"Your mother retained oversight, but operational management passed to an outside administrator."
"Who?"
Robert looked toward the floor.
"Victor Bellini."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
I felt a wave of nausea.
"You're telling me the man who threatened my sister was responsible for money intended for families whose fathers died?"
Robert nodded.
"At least on paper."
I laughed once.
It was an ugly sound.
"My mother worked herself into an early grave."
Nobody answered.
"She cleaned offices at night."
My voice broke.
"She skipped meals so Lily and I could eat."
Matteo looked at me.
I stared at Robert.
"And you're telling me there was money?"
Robert's face crumpled.
"Claire, we don't yet know what your family was legally entitled to receive."
"But there was a fund."
"Yes."
"And my father helped expose someone stealing from it."
"That appears possible."
I stepped backward.
"Then why didn't anyone help us?"
The question hung in the room.
Nobody had an answer.
Not Robert.
Not Margaret.
Not Eleanor.
Not even Matteo.
Finally, he spoke.
"I should have known."
I looked at him.
"You were a child when my father died."
He shook his head.
"I inherited responsibility for those businesses."
"That doesn't mean you knew everything."
"It means I should have asked more questions."
His expression hardened.
"And I'm going to start asking them now."
He turned toward Daniel.
"Find everything you can about the fire at Claire's apartment."
Daniel nodded.
"And the warehouse?"
"Have someone verify the address."
I looked at Matteo.
"You're not going there tonight."
He turned.
"Why not?"
"Because whoever threatened Lily might be waiting."
Matteo studied me.
"You're worried about me?"
I looked away.
"I'm worried about everyone."
Something softened in his eyes.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel glanced at the screen.
"It's the team escorting Lily."
Matteo answered immediately.
"Report."
He listened.
His expression changed.
"What do you mean, she refused?"
I frowned.
"Refused what?"
Matteo covered the phone.
"Your sister doesn't want to leave the pharmacy without speaking to you."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
That sounded exactly like Lily.
I took the phone.
"Lily?"
"Claire, what is happening?"
Her voice shook.
"Why are two men in black suits telling me I need protection?"
"Because someone threatened you."
"Who?"
I hesitated.
"A man connected to my employer."
Silence.
Then Lily said, "Did you steal something?"
I stared at the phone.
"What?"
"Claire, please tell me you didn't steal anything."
"No!"
"Then why would someone threaten us?"
I looked at the documents spread across Matteo's desk.
"Because I helped an elderly woman."
Lily was silent.
Then she whispered, "That doesn't make sense."
"I know."
"Are you coming home?"
I looked at Matteo.
He nodded.
I turned toward the window.
"Not yet."
"Claire—"
"Listen to me."
My voice became firm.
"Go with the security team."
"I don't know those people."
"Ask Officer Ramirez to verify their identities."
A pause.
"Okay."
"And don't go back to our apartment tonight."
"Where am I supposed to sleep?"
Matteo held out his hand.
I passed him the phone.
"Lily, you'll be staying in a secure guesthouse with your sister if she's comfortable with that."
He glanced at me for confirmation.
I nodded.
"There's a separate entrance and staff available around the clock."
Lily hesitated.
"Are you the man my sister works for?"
"Yes."
"The one who owns the enormous mansion?"
"That's me."
She paused.
"Did Claire do something wrong?"
Matteo looked directly at me.
"No."
His voice softened.
"Your sister did something very right."
My throat tightened.
He handed the phone back.
Lily whispered, "Claire?"
"Yes?"
"Please be careful."
"I will."
We ended the call.
For a few minutes, the room remained quiet.
Then Robert began examining the documents again.
"Matteo, there's something unusual about this address."
He pointed to the paper.
"The warehouse was purchased by a company called North Harbor Storage."
Matteo frowned.
"Never heard of it."
"Neither have I."
Robert typed something into his laptop.
"According to these records, the company dissolved in 2008."
I looked up.
"That's the year of the fire."
Robert nodded.
"And the property was transferred afterward."
"To whom?" Matteo asked.
Robert's fingers stopped moving.
He stared at the screen.
Then he looked up.
"Vanessa Bellini."
The silence that followed felt almost physical.
Matteo leaned over the desk.
"Vanessa would have been twenty-one."
"Correct."
"Why would she own a warehouse connected to my father's old foundation?"
Robert shook his head.
"I don't know."
Then I remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had received a delivery at the mansion.
A large wooden crate.
She had insisted that nobody open it.
Gordon had personally carried it into the basement storage room.
I looked at Matteo.
"Sir?"
He turned.
"Yes?"
"Vanessa had something delivered recently."
"What?"
"A wooden crate."
"When?"
"Three weeks ago."
His expression sharpened.
"Where is it?"
"The basement."
Matteo immediately headed toward the door.
I followed.
We descended two flights of stairs into the mansion's storage level.
The air smelled of polished wood and cleaning supplies.
Rows of shelves held holiday decorations, antique furniture, and expensive objects nobody seemed to use.
I led Matteo toward the back wall.
"There."
The crate stood behind a stack of folded tables.
But something was wrong.
Its lid had been removed.
And the inside was empty.
Matteo examined the wooden panels.
"Daniel."
The guard stepped closer.
"Sir?"
"Check the security footage."
Daniel nodded.
I noticed something caught beneath the crate.
A scrap of blue fabric.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was a piece of an old moving blanket.
Attached to it was a small white label.
PROPERTY OF ST. AGNES CHILDREN'S HOME.
I stared at the words.
St. Agnes.
My mother had volunteered there every Christmas.
She used to bring Lily and me to help distribute gifts.
After she died, I stopped going.
Too many memories.
Matteo noticed my expression.
"Claire?"
I showed him the label.
"My mother knew this place."
He took it carefully.
"How?"
"She volunteered there."
Robert appeared in the doorway.
"St. Agnes?"
I turned.
"Yes."
His face changed.
"Isabella supported that home for years."
Matteo looked at him.
"Why?"
Robert hesitated.
"Because several children from the Harbor families lived there after their parents died."
I felt cold.
Every road led back to the same people.
The same fund.
The same missing money.
The same dead fathers.
Then Daniel's radio crackled.
He listened.
"Mr. DeLuca, we've recovered footage from the basement camera."
Matteo turned.
"Show me."
Daniel opened a video on his tablet.
The recording showed Gordon entering the basement at 2:14 a.m. three nights earlier.
He was accompanied by another man.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark overcoat.
The second man turned toward the camera.
Matteo stopped breathing.
"Victor."
Vanessa's father.
Victor Bellini had been inside the mansion three nights earlier.
Gordon opened the crate.
The men removed several metal document boxes.
Then Victor took something else from inside.
A small framed photograph.
He studied it.
Smiled.
And slipped it into his coat.
Matteo leaned closer.
"Can you enlarge that?"
Daniel paused the footage.
The photograph showed two little girls standing beside a woman.
I recognized them immediately.
My mother.
Lily.
And me.
My hands went numb.
"Why does he have that?"
Nobody answered.
Then the video continued.
Victor turned toward the camera.
He looked directly into the lens.
And smiled.
Almost as though he knew someone would eventually watch.
He raised one hand.
Between his fingers was a white envelope.
Across the front, written in large black letters, was a name.
CLAIRE BENNETT.
The footage ended.
I stared at the frozen screen.
Matteo looked at Daniel.
"Find out where those boxes went."
Then he turned toward me.
"Claire, did your mother ever give you anything before she died?"
I swallowed.
"She gave me her wedding ring."
"Anything else?"
I thought for a moment.
Then I remembered.
A small silver music box.
It had sat on my childhood dresser for years.
After my mother died, I packed it away because the melody made Lily cry.
I hadn't opened it in almost a decade.
I looked at Matteo.
"Yes."
His expression changed.
"What?"
"A music box."
"Where is it?"
"At my apartment."
Before he could answer, Daniel's phone rang.
He listened.
Then his face turned pale.
"Sir."
Matteo looked up.
"What?"
"The security team just reached Claire's building."
My heart stopped.
Daniel swallowed.
"Someone broke into her apartment."
I grabbed the edge of a shelf.
"What?"
He looked directly at me.
"The place has been completely searched."
I couldn't breathe.
Then he added something worse.
"Whoever did it left a message on the bedroom wall."
Matteo's voice dropped.
"What message?"
Daniel looked at me.
May you like
His expression was filled with pity.
"YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE BURNED THE BOX."
