Chapter 4 - The Key in the Wall
The key opened nothing in Vincent's world.
Not the Castellano vault.
Not the family safe.
Not the storage facilities.
Not the old businesses.
Number twenty-seven.
That was all.
For two days, they searched.
Nothing.
Amelia returned to the diner under heavy security.
She hated it.
Every customer made her glance toward the door.
Every sudden movement made her shoulders tense.
Angela noticed.
“You don't have to come back yet.”
Amelia smiled.
“I need to.”
“Why?”
“Because this place reminds me who I am.”
Angela took her hand.
“Then don't let those men take that from you.”
Amelia nodded.
Tony appeared from the kitchen.
“Lunch.”
He put a plate down.
Amelia stared.
“I didn't order this.”
“You didn't eat breakfast.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Angela told me.”
Angela shrugged.
“I'm observant.”
For the first time in days, Amelia laughed.
Vincent watched from the doorway.
He rarely smiled.
But he did now.
Unfortunately, so did someone else.
Across the street, a black car sat with the engine running.
Inside was a man named Cole Mercer.
Cole worked for Raymond.
But Raymond no longer trusted him.
And Cole had decided trust was overrated.
He photographed Amelia through the diner window.
Then he photographed Vincent.
Then he sent both images to someone whose number was saved under a single letter.
M.
The reply came immediately.
BRING ME THE GIRL.
Cole smiled.
Not because he liked violence.
Because he liked money.
That night, Amelia found Vincent in the office.
He was reading old files.
She placed the brass key on his desk.
“I remembered something.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“When I was locked in Raymond's basement, there was a wall.”
“What kind?”
“Stone.”
“Anything unusual?”
“A small symbol.”
She drew it on paper.
Vincent went pale.
“What?”
“My father used that symbol.”
She stared at him.
“You recognize it.”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“A private family archive.”
“Where?”
“My father's childhood house.”
“Does it have a number?”
Vincent nodded.
“Twenty-seven.”
They left before midnight.
The house stood on Staten Island behind rusted iron gates.
The windows were boarded.
The gardens were dead.
Inside, the air smelled like dust and old wood.
Vincent led her downstairs.
“Here.”
A stone wall.
Twenty-seven carved into the center.
The key turned.
A section of the wall shifted.
Behind it was a narrow room.
There were shelves.
Boxes.
Files.
And one chair.
Amelia walked toward it slowly.
On the desk sat a cassette recorder.
Vincent pressed play.
A man's voice filled the room.
His father's.
“If you are hearing this, Giovanni is dead.”
Amelia covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
“Thomas Fletcher will tell you I betrayed your father.”
Vincent went rigid.
“That will be a lie.”
Amelia stared at him.
“Giovanni discovered Thomas was selling names to a man called Monroe.”
Vincent whispered, “Monroe.”
His father continued.
“Monroe controls the financial network. Thomas works for him. But there is someone else.”
Static crackled.
“A woman.”
The recording stopped.
Vincent looked at the machine.
“That's it.”
“No.”
Amelia examined it.
“There must be more.”
She opened the battery compartment.
A small strip of paper fell out.
A handwriting she recognized.
Her father's.
THE WOMAN IS IN YOUR HOME.
Vincent went still.
“Someone inside the Castellano family.”
Amelia nodded.
“Someone close enough to your father.”
Before they could continue, a sound came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Vincent signaled silence.
The footsteps approached.
A gunshot tore through the door.
Wood splintered.
Vincent pushed Amelia behind the desk.
Two men entered.
Then a third.
The fight was fast and brutal.
Vincent disarmed one.
Marco took another.
Amelia froze as the third man aimed toward Vincent.
Without thinking, she grabbed a metal lamp and struck his wrist.
The gun fell.
Vincent finished the fight.
Afterward, the room was silent except for their breathing.
Vincent turned toward her.
“You saved me.”
She looked at the lamp in her hands.
“I suppose I did.”
He stepped closer.
“Thank you.”
She looked up.
Their faces were inches apart.
For a second, everything else disappeared.
Then Marco cleared his throat.
“Sorry.”
They stepped apart.
Marco held a wallet.
“Found this.”
Inside was an identification card.
The attackers were not Raymond's men.
They belonged to a private security company.
The company had one major client.
Castellano Enterprises.
Amelia stared.
“Someone from your side hired them.”
Vincent's face hardened.
“Yes.”
They returned to the city.
At the townhouse, Vincent called every senior member of his organization.
One name was missing.
His aunt Sofia.
She had raised him after his father died.
She had been beside him for twenty years.
She had access to everything.
She had also always insisted that Amelia was not to be trusted.
Vincent picked up the phone.
“Call Sofia.”
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
A third time.
The phone had been disconnected.
Vincent stared at the screen.
Amelia whispered, “The woman is in your home.”
Vincent nodded.
Then the front door opened.
Sofia walked in.
She carried flowers.
May you like
She smiled.
And she said, “I was wondering when you would finally find the archive.”
