Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew My Name Before I Told Him
Nico's house did not look like the home of a criminal.
It looked like a place where criminals would be afraid to break anything.
The estate sat behind a stone wall in New Jersey, far enough from Manhattan to feel private without being isolated.
The driveway curved through old trees.
Security cameras sat nearly invisible beneath the roofline.
The main house was all dark wood, glass, and warm yellow light.
I stared through the window.
“I can't stay here.”
“You can.”
“I don't know you.”
“I know.”
“You're a stranger.”
“So are most people.”
I turned toward him.
“That is not comforting.”
He almost smiled.
“You're honest when you're angry.”
“I'm not angry.”
“You are.”
I looked away.
He was right.
Inside the house, a woman in her sixties approached.
“Mr. Bellandi.”
“Maria.”
She looked at me.
Her expression softened immediately.
“You're hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
Maria gave Nico a look.
He nodded.
“Guest room.”
She understood.
I followed her upstairs.
The room was larger than my apartment.
Fresh clothes had already been placed on the bed.
A first-aid kit sat on the table.
There were slippers.
A robe.
A phone charger.
And a small bowl of soup.
I stared.
“Did he know I would come?”
Maria smiled.
“He plans for everything.”
“That isn't normal.”
“No.”
She walked toward the door.
“Get some rest.”
“Maria?”
“Yes?”
“Why is he helping me?”
She looked back.
“He doesn't often.”
Then she left.
I sat on the bed.
I called my mother.
She didn't answer.
I called again.
Voicemail.
I texted.
MOM: I'm okay. Don't worry.
It was a lie.
I wasn't okay.
I was in the home of a man whose name was whispered like a threat.
The door opened.
Nico stood there.
I stood immediately.
“You should sleep.”
“Why do you know my name?”
He paused.
“I told you.”
“No. You knew it before you saw my badge.”
His face changed.
I remembered.
At the diner, before I told him anything, he had said:
“Lena.”
Not “Miss.”
Not “waitress.”
My name.
He hadn't read the badge.
He had known.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Nico.”
“You know what I mean.”
He closed the door.
“Your father was Daniel Marino.”
My breath stopped.
“How do you know?”
“He worked for mine.”
“My father was a contractor.”
“He told you that.”
I shook my head.
“My mother said he died in a construction accident.”
Nico stared at me.
“He didn't.”
My hands went cold.
“What?”
“He disappeared.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does if you know the truth.”
“What truth?”
Nico sat.
“My father ran a logistics operation.”
“Criminal?”
“Yes.”
“And mine?”
“Security.”
I stared.
“My father worked for your father?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Eight years.”
“What happened?”
Nico hesitated.
“He found something.”
“What?”
“A list.”
“Of what?”
“Payments.”
I felt dizzy.
“Who was he paying?”
“Politicians.”
“Police.”
“Judges.”
“And other families.”
I shook my head.
“I don't understand.”
“You don't need to.”
“Yes, I do.”
Nico looked at me.
“Your father disappeared after he stole evidence.”
“Why would he steal it?”
“To keep it from my uncle.”
“Who is your uncle?”
“Rocco Bellandi.”
He said the name with no emotion.
“My father died before I was born.”
Nico nodded.
“He didn't.”
“What?”
“My uncle is alive.”
The room went cold.
“He's been missing for twenty years.”
“That's what everyone believes.”
“Then where is he?”
“We're looking.”
I stared.
“And my father?”
“We found a connection between him and Rocco.”
“What connection?”
Nico leaned forward.
“Your father hid something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
I laughed nervously.
“You think I have it?”
“I think someone thinks you have it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“That's why I brought you here.”
He stood.
“Because the man who hurt you is working for someone much more dangerous.”
“Tommy?”
“No.”
He walked toward the door.
“Tommy is a gambler.”
“Then who?”
Nico stopped.
“The man who keeps paying him.”
That night, I barely slept.
At six in the morning, a scream woke me.
I ran downstairs.
One of the guards had been attacked outside.
Nico stood in the foyer.
Blood on his sleeve.
He looked at me.
“Go upstairs.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That's blood.”
“Not mine.”
I stared.
Then I saw something on the floor.
A note.
Nico picked it up.
Three words.
SHE REMEMBERS.
My skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
He didn't answer.
He looked at me.
“Do you remember anything about your father?”
I thought.
“I remember a key.”
Nico went completely still.
“What kind?”
“Small.”
“Metal?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you see it?”
“My father had it.”
“When?”
“When I was eight.”
“What happened to it?”
“He gave it to my mother.”
Nico swallowed.
“Where is she now?”
“Brooklyn.”
He immediately reached for his phone.
“Send a team.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Your mother is in danger.”
“How do you know?”
He showed me the note again.
SHE REMEMBERS.
“Whoever left this thinks you're the key.”
I looked at him.
“And what if they're right?”
His eyes locked with mine.
“Then I will make sure they never get to you.”
May you like
It was the first promise Nico made.
He kept it.
