Chapter 2
Daniel’s phone rang a third time before we reached Maple Street.
He listened, then asked the security guard to repeat what he’d seen. The rest of us waited in the dim car, watching the dark windows of the neighborhood slide past.
“The basement camera is still working,” Daniel said when he hung up. “The person is trying the cabinet. It’s still locked.”
Emily’s fingers tightened around the folded baby outfit in her lap.
“Did they get inside the house?” she asked.
“The back door was open when our men arrived.”
“Was it forced?”
“They couldn’t tell from outside.”
Luca turned toward her. “The police are close. We’ll wait for them.”
Emily’s eyes stayed on the window. “I know.”
He didn’t tell her what to do. That mattered more than he seemed to understand.
A few minutes later, Daniel pulled to the curb in front of a modest brick house. The porch light was on. Emily’s childhood home looked smaller than the mansion we’d left behind, but the moment she saw it, her shoulders drew up as if she’d walked straight into a memory.
“I haven’t been here in months,” she whispered.
Luca glanced at the house. “You don’t have to go in.”
“I know.” She took a breath. “But it’s my house. I want to see what’s happening.”
A police cruiser was parked near the corner, its lights off. Two officers stood beside it, speaking with a man in a dark coat. Daniel’s security team kept their distance from the house, gathered along the sidewalk rather than crowding the front steps.
Our driver stopped behind the cruiser.
Luca got out first, then offered Emily his hand without reaching for her. She took it as she stepped down. I followed, keeping close enough for her to ask me to stay, but not so close that I made the choice for her.
The man in the dark coat introduced himself as Mr. Patel, Luca’s attorney. He greeted Emily first.
“Ms. Moretti, the officers have secured the outside. No one has entered the house.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “Can I see the person who’s inside?”
One of the officers, a broad-shouldered woman with a calm voice, explained that they could call the person upstairs and bring him out. Emily nodded, then looked toward the house.
“I want to know why he’s in my basement.”
“I understand,” the officer said. “We’ll make contact from the doorway. Nobody goes farther inside unless you authorize it.”
Luca’s jaw tightened at that last part. He didn’t argue. His daughter’s permission came before his impatience.
The officer moved to the back entrance with her partner. Daniel followed them only as far as the yard, stopping when she raised a hand. Mr. Patel stayed beside Emily.
The minutes stretched. The house gave nothing away: no movement behind the windows, no sound from the basement. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked once and fell silent.
Then a man appeared in the back doorway with his hands visible. He was in his forties, wearing work pants and a company jacket. He didn’t look like a burglar. He looked tired, nervous, and deeply aware of the police officer at his side.
“Is he armed?” Emily asked.
“No weapon observed,” Daniel said. “The officers are checking him now.”
They asked the man to step onto the walk. He did. An officer searched him while the other asked him to identify himself. He gave his name and said he was a locksmith hired to open the basement cabinet.
Emily’s face went pale.
“You were hired to break into my cabinet?”
“I was told I had authorization,” he said. His eyes flicked between the officers and the people gathered on the sidewalk. “I’m not trying to steal anything.”
“Who hired you?” Emily asked.
He hesitated.
The officer kept her voice level. “You can answer her, or you can wait and speak with us inside the cruiser.”
“Bellini Property Services,” he said at last. “I got the job through a private property company.”
“Did you see Ms. Bellini?” Daniel asked.
“No. I got the address and a code. The work order said the owner had approved it.”
“Where is the work order?” Mr. Patel asked.
The man pointed to a small tool bag set on the ground. “In there. I can get it if you want.”
“Don’t touch it,” the officer said. She asked him to step back, then retrieved the papers herself with gloves.
Emily watched her unfold them. Luca remained beside his daughter, his hands at his sides. He looked like a man holding himself still by force.
The officer read the top page, then glanced at Emily.
“Ms. Moretti, this document says the contractor was sent to open a locked cabinet in the basement.”
“I never authorized that.”
The contractor shook his head. “I was told it was approved.”
“Who told you?” Emily asked.
“The dispatcher. I don’t know who arranged the job.”
The officer continued reading. “The paperwork lists Bellini Property Services as the client contact. It also says the cabinet should be opened before a second crew arrives.”
Mr. Patel’s expression sharpened. “A second crew?”
The contractor rubbed his palms against his pants. “They’re supposed to come in the morning. I don’t know what they’re doing. I was just sent to open the cabinet.”
“What time?” Daniel asked.
“Six, maybe. The work order says dawn.”
The officer had the contractor sit on the curb while she and her partner spoke with him. He didn’t resist. He kept saying he’d been hired to do a job, that he’d been told it was authorized, that he didn’t know anything about a family dispute. He might have been telling the truth. He might have been leaving something out. None of us could know yet.
Emily looked toward the house.
“I want everyone to wait outside until I say otherwise.”
“Of course,” the officer replied.
Emily turned to Daniel. “You can secure the rooms. Don’t touch the cabinet, and don’t let anyone else in.”
“Understood.”
“You’ll go with the officers. Not ahead of them.”
Daniel nodded.
Mr. Patel spoke quietly to Emily. “You have the right to decide who enters your home. We can document the condition of the property without disturbing anything.”
She let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, though there was no humor in it.
“It’s strange needing to be reminded that it’s mine.”
Luca looked at her. “I should have reminded you years ago.”
She met his gaze. “You transferred it to me. That wasn’t the problem.”
“I know.”
She looked away before he could say more.
With Emily’s permission, the officers entered first. Daniel went in behind them, followed by another security guard. Luca stayed on the walk, though every line of his body seemed to pull toward the basement. I stayed with Emily.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“Don’t be. You didn’t give anyone the code.”
Her fingers went to her stomach. I had seen her protectively touch it before, but this time the gesture seemed less like fear than a promise to herself: whatever happened next, she would keep her child safe.
The officers returned several minutes later. One carried the work order in a clear evidence sleeve.
“The basement door was open,” she said. “The contractor had reached the cabinet but hadn’t opened it. The cabinet appears undamaged.”
Emily closed her eyes for a moment.
“Thank you.”
Daniel came out behind them. “The doors and windows are secure. No one else is inside.”
“Good,” Emily said. “Nobody goes near that cabinet.”
“Understood.”
The officer said they would document the scene and speak with the contractor further. Mr. Patel asked for copies of the work order and advised Emily not to sign anything from the property company without counsel reviewing it. He also said he would contact the company first thing in the morning—before its crew arrived.
“Before six,” Emily said.
“Before six,” he agreed.
Luca stood beside her, silent. He didn’t offer to take over, didn’t promise to make the problem disappear. For once, he seemed to understand that standing with her meant letting her remain in charge.
The contractor was still on the curb when the officer brought the papers over. The first page named Vanessa Bellini as the company’s contact. The second listed the morning crew and an appointment time: 6:00 A.M.
Emily stared at the next sheet.
“What is that?” Luca asked.
“A property authorization,” she said.
Mr. Patel held out his hand, and she passed it to him. He read the page once, then looked at Emily.
“This says the owner consented to the inspection and cabinet work.”
“I didn’t.”
Her voice was quiet, but no one mistook it for uncertainty.
The form carried her name at the bottom, beneath a signature that was meant to be hers.
May you like
Emily looked down at it.
“That is not my signature.”
