Chapter 3 - The Man She Was Never Supposed to Trust
The next morning, Mia woke to the smell of coffee.
She followed it downstairs.
Marco stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, reading a newspaper.
For a man who controlled half the criminal underworld in the city, he looked strangely ordinary.
“Morning,” he said.
“You cook?”
“When I have to.”
“That sounds like a depressing life.”
“It is.”
He poured her coffee.
She accepted it.
“Thank you.”
He leaned against the counter.
“Did you sleep?”
“Not much.”
“Good.”
She stared at him.
“That was a joke.”
“Terrible one.”
“I know.”
For a few minutes, they were simply two people drinking coffee.
Then the elevator opened.
Julian walked in.
Mia's shoulders stiffened.
“Good morning,” Julian said.
Marco didn't look up.
“What do you want?”
“Business.”
“Later.”
Julian glanced at Mia.
“She should leave.”
Mia looked between them.
Marco's voice sharpened.
“No.”
Julian smiled.
“Still protecting her.”
Marco set his cup down.
“I don't remember asking your opinion.”
Julian shrugged.
“I'm family.”
“So is she.”
Mia froze.
Julian did too.
Marco's eyes moved slowly toward him.
“What did you say?”
Julian's smile disappeared.
“Nothing.”
Marco stood.
“Leave.”
Julian did.
As the elevator doors closed, Mia looked at Marco.
“What did he mean?”
“Julian talks too much.”
“He said I was family.”
Marco's face hardened.
“He doesn't know what he's talking about.”
“Then tell me.”
“Not yet.”
Mia hated those words.
Not yet.
Every answer in Marco's world came with a locked door.
That afternoon, she began organizing his schedule.
She noticed something odd.
Every Thursday at nine p.m., he blocked the same hour.
No meeting.
No explanation.
No location.
Just one line:
MERCER.
She stared at it.
“Who's Mercer?”
Marco looked up from his desk.
“No one.”
“That's a strange calendar entry for no one.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Delete it.”
She didn't.
That night, she followed him.
She told herself she did it because she was suspicious.
The truth was more complicated.
Marco drove to a small cemetery outside the city.
He entered alone.
Mia stayed in the car.
He stopped at a grave.
She couldn't read the name from that distance.
Then he knelt.
For almost twenty minutes, he said nothing.
Finally, he placed a photograph on the stone.
Mia approached.
He turned.
“You shouldn't be here.”
She saw the grave.
Victor Callaway.
Her father.
Mia stopped.
“Why are you visiting my father?”
Marco stood.
“He saved my life.”
“Then why was I never told?”
“Because your father asked me not to tell you.”
“Why?”
“He knew people were watching you.”
She stared at the grave.
“What happened to him?”
Marco's voice became quiet.
“He died protecting evidence.”
“From whom?”
“The person who now wants you dead.”
Mia looked at him.
“Tell me his name.”
“Not here.”
They returned to the car.
Marco finally spoke.
“Elias Moretti.”
Mia frowned.
“Who is he?”
“The man who finances the network.”
“Why would he care about me?”
“Because you have something he wants.”
“What?”
“Memory.”
She shook her head.
“I don't understand.”
“Your father taught you numbers as a child.”
“So?”
“You don't remember what he taught you.”
“No.”
“He encoded financial access inside a sequence.”
Mia stared.
“That's ridiculous.”
“Your father did a lot of ridiculous things.”
He handed her a file.
Inside were childhood drawings.
Numbers.
Shapes.
Sequences.
Mia looked at them.
Then she suddenly remembered.
A game her father played with her.
Five red circles.
Three blue.
Two yellow.
One black.
He used to turn it into a counting game.
She said the numbers softly.
“Five-three-two-one.”
Marco went still.
“What?”
“I remember.”
She pointed at the page.
“He told me this was how you find what people hide.”
Marco took the paper.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“My father's things.”
He stared.
“Do you have the original?”
“No.”
Mia stopped.
“Wait.”
She remembered the necklace her father gave her.
A small metal key attached to a chain.
She had kept it in a drawer for nineteen years.
Marco asked, “Where is it?”
“My apartment.”
“We're going.”
At the apartment, Mia opened the drawer.
The key was missing.
Her heart dropped.
She searched everything.
Nothing.
Someone had taken it.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man's voice said:
“You should have stayed away from Marco.”
“Who are you?”
“You're making the same mistake your father made.”
“What mistake?”
“Trusting a Vitali.”
The line disconnected.
Marco watched her.
“You need to come with me.”
She nodded.
Back at the building, she asked him the question she had been avoiding.
“Did my father trust your family?”
“Yes.”
“Did he trust you?”
Marco hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Do you love my father?”
Marco looked at her.
“I loved him like a brother.”
She swallowed.
“And me?”
He froze.
She hadn't meant to ask it.
Not like that.
The room seemed suddenly too quiet.
Marco stepped closer.
“You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answered.”
“Maybe I do.”
His eyes held hers.
“Mia.”
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
Then a glass shattered somewhere down the hallway.
Marco immediately changed.
He pulled her behind him.
A gunshot rang out.
Then another.
The lights died.
The darkness swallowed them.
Mia felt Marco's hand find hers.
“Stay with me.”
“I am.”
Footsteps approached.
Marco pulled her through a side door.
They entered his office.
He locked the door.
Mia could hear men moving outside.
“What's happening?”
“They've breached the floor.”
“Who?”
“Someone wants the files.”
“Can we get out?”
“Not yet.”
He moved toward the wall.
Pressed a hidden switch.
A panel opened.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
“Where does that go?”
“Behind the building.”
Mia followed.
They walked in darkness.
The tunnel was barely wide enough for two people.
At one point, Mia slipped.
Marco caught her.
His arm went around her waist.
For one moment, neither moved.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
His hand remained at her waist.
She looked up.
He looked down.
The air between them changed.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Neither moved away.
A gunshot echoed in the distance.
Marco released her.
“Keep moving.”
They escaped through the tunnel.
But when they reached the street, Mia saw the truth.
Someone had taken control of the building.
May you like
The person standing on the balcony above was Julian.
And beside him was Elias Moretti.
