Chapter 5
“Yes.”
“Don’t say anything to him.”
“Why?”
“Because this was never about the necklace.”
At 10:17 p.m., Isabella entered her apartment and opened her laptop.
She pulled up the Bellucci restoration files.
Three paintings.
Three payments.
$420,000.
$435,000.
$418,000.
All approved by Carlo Moretti.
The restoration company had existed for eighteen months.
Its listed office was a warehouse outside Newark.
Its directors were hidden behind two holding companies.
Isabella began digging.
At 10:41, she found the connection.
One of the holding companies shared a registered agent with a construction firm.
That construction firm belonged to Carlo’s brother-in-law.
Isabella stared at the screen.
There it was.
Not enough for a conviction.
But enough to understand motive.
She had submitted the verification request that afternoon.
Carlo needed to discredit her before Dante saw it.
Making her look like a thief accomplished two things.
It destroyed her credibility.
And it gave Carlo a reason to argue that she had fabricated accusations against him after being caught stealing.
Her phone buzzed again.
Dante.
She ignored it.
Then another message appeared.
MARCO:
Found something.
Isabella called immediately.
“What?”
“The salon cameras were disabled between 8:57 and 9:11.”
“Who has access?”
“Dante. Me. Two security supervisors.”
“And?”
Marco was silent.
“And Carlo.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“Check the dining room corridor.”
“We already did.”
“And?”
“Carlo entered it at 8:59.”
“Did the camera see him near my bag?”
“No. Wrong angle.”
“Of course.”
Marco exhaled.
“Isabella, Dante wants you back here.”
“No.”
“He wants to apologize.”
“Then he can practice.”
“Isabella—”
“Marco, I need you to check something else.”
“What?”
She gave him the company names.
When she finished, Marco was quiet.
“What exactly did you find?”
“Approximately $1.27 million in suspicious restoration payments.”
His voice changed.
“Carlo?”
“I think so.”
“And you filed a verification request today?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“Now you understand why the necklace appeared in my handbag.”
At 11:36 p.m., Dante Moretti stood alone in the salon.
Everyone else had been moved into the library.
The velvet case remained where Isabella had left it.
Open.
The sapphire necklace inside.
His engagement ring beside it.
He had been staring at the ring for eleven minutes.
Katarina entered quietly.
“You should probably stop looking at it.”
Dante did not move.
“She gave it back.”
“Yes.”
“I never accused her.”
Katarina folded her arms.
“No. You just let everyone else do it while you stood there.”