Chapter 3 - THE FATHER IN THE FILE
Mia’s father had been dead for nineteen years.
That made him safe.
Dead parents could be remembered in the edited form surviving families preferred.
Robert Callaway had been tall.
Funny.
Bad at assembling furniture.
Excellent at making pancakes.
He died when Mia was twelve.
Car crash.
Rain.
A bridge outside New Haven.
Her mother never remarried.
That was the story.
Simple.
Complete.
Until seven forty-three in the morning when Elise Callaway told her Marco Vitali’s father had ordered the operation that killed him.
Mia did not speak for several seconds.
Marco watched.
He could not hear her mother’s voice, but he knew enough.
“What operation?” Mia asked.
Elise went quiet.
“Mia—”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“No more protecting me with missing information.”
Marco’s face changed slightly at that sentence.
Good.
Let him hear it too.
Her mother exhaled.
“Your father worked federal customs.”
Mia closed her eyes.
“No.”
“He was an analyst.”
“He sold commercial insurance.”
“That was cover.”
She laughed once.
The sound hurt.
Of course.
Everyone was someone else now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because after he died, I was told if his work ever became public, you would become part of the file.”
“What file?”
“The Vitali file.”
Mia looked at Marco.
His face had gone hard.
“Who told you that?”
“Daniel Reed.”
Everything kept returning to Daniel.
“Why did Hartwell have a customs investigation?”
“Because Hartwell handled pension and municipal accounts connected to shipping companies Robert was monitoring.”
Marco stepped closer.
Mia held up one finger.
He stopped.
She asked, “Did Dad investigate Vitali?”
“Yes.”
“Marco’s father?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Her mother began to cry.
Mia had heard Elise cry perhaps six times in her life.
Always quietly.
Always as though emotion were another household expense she preferred not to burden anyone with.
“Your father discovered a shipment was being used for something illegal,” Elise said. “He planned to intercept it with a joint team. Someone inside customs leaked the operation. The Vitali organization changed routes. Another group attacked the convoy instead.”
“Was Dad there?”
“Yes.”
Mia gripped the phone.
“He died in the crash.”
“He died during the attack.”
Mia sat on a bench.
Marco remained standing.
“What did Vitali order?”
“Route diversion.”
“Not the attack?”
“No.”
That mattered.
Not enough.
But it mattered.
“Who attacked?”
“Borelli.”
Marco’s eyes changed when Mia repeated the name.
He knew it.
Elise continued.
“Vittorio Vitali believed Robert was corrupt and selling the route to Borelli. He ordered men to divert the shipment and detain him.”
“Detain.”
Mia hated the word.
“He was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad died because of it.”
“Yes.”
Marco looked away.
Mia asked her mother, “Why does Daniel matter?”
“Daniel found an internal Hartwell file that proved your father had not leaked anything. Hartwell had.”
The room seemed to close.
Hartwell.
Again.
Always Hartwell.
“They sold the route?”
“Yes.”
“To both sides.”
Mia understood instantly.
They created conflict.
Then documented who paid whom afterward.
Leverage.
“Why did Daniel give you the drive?”
“Because it contains the archived file.”
“And more?”
“Yes.”
“How much more?”
“Enough to ruin people who still think they’re safe.”
Mia looked at Marco.
“He needs to hear this.”
Her mother went silent.
“Mom.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Mia did not soften it.
“But I need information he has.”
Elise whispered, “Your father trusted Vittorio once.”
Marco’s eyes sharpened.
Mia repeated it.
“Dad trusted your father.”
Marco said nothing.
Elise continued.
“They worked together before everything went wrong.”
Mia stared.
“A federal analyst and a crime boss?”
“Sometimes people cooperate for reasons that don’t make good memorial speeches.”
That sounded like her mother.
Mia almost smiled.
“Where are you?”
“I’ll text an address.”
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who’s with you?”
Another pause.
“Luca Vitali.”
Marco moved instantly.
“What?”
Mia held up the phone.
Her mother said, “He came to me three days ago.”
Mia looked at Marco.
His face had emptied.
“Why?”
“He said someone inside Hartwell and someone inside the Vitali organization were trying to recover Daniel’s archive.”
“Luca is in Rome.”
“No.”
Marco swore softly.
Adrian approached from down the hall.
“What happened?”
Marco looked at him.
Mia watched Adrian’s hands.
His phone again.
Checking.
Waiting.
Marco said, “Luca is in Connecticut.”
Adrian froze.
Only for half a second.
Then:
“What?”
Too much surprise.
Mia noticed.
Marco did too.
“Who told you he was in Rome?” Mia asked.
Adrian looked at her.
“His security office.”
“Who runs it?”
“I do.”
There it was.
Marco’s eyes changed.
Adrian realized too late.
“I mean administratively.”
Marco stepped closer.
“When did you last speak to Luca?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Four days.”
“Where?”
“He said Rome.”
“Video?”
“No.”
“Flight records?”
“Private.”
Marco stared.
Mia watched Adrian’s right hand.
It moved toward his pocket again.
“Don’t,” she said.
Both men looked at her.
Adrian’s hand stopped.
Marco’s voice became low.
“Take out the phone.”
Adrian laughed.
“You’re listening to her now?”
Marco said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Adrian slowly removed the phone.
He handed it over.
Locked.
Marco held it out.
“Open.”
“No.”
The hallway changed.
Even without guns visible, Mia felt danger arrive.
Adrian looked at Marco.
“You don’t get to treat me like one of your drivers.”
“You’re right.”
Marco stepped closer.
“I treat my drivers with trust.”
Adrian’s face flushed.
Mia’s phone buzzed.
An address.
Her mother.
Old church in Bridgeport.
Marco looked at the screen.
Mia pulled it back.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You’re not taking my phone.”
“I was reading.”
“You were reaching.”
He stopped.
“Right.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“This is unbelievable.”
Mia looked at him.
“You’re welcome to leave.”
Marco almost smiled.
Adrian did not.
Then his phone began vibrating in Marco’s hand.
A message preview appeared on the locked screen.
Mia read it upside down.
L: SHE HAS THE COPY. KEEP MARCO BUSY.
No one moved.
Adrian’s face went white.
Marco looked at him.
“Luca?”
Adrian said nothing.
Marco’s hands closed around the phone.
“Who is L?”
Adrian swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
Mia said, “Bad answer.”
Marco agreed.
“Very.”
Security arrived.
Two men.
Marco looked at them.
“Adrian stays here.”
Adrian’s anger broke open.
“You think Luca is the problem?”
Marco did not respond.
Adrian continued.
“You have no idea what he found.”
“What?”
“Ask your new secretary why Hartwell fired her three months after Reed died.”
Mia froze.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Adrian smiled.
“Because Reed left a scheduled transfer.”
“To me?”
“No.”
Adrian looked at Marco.
“To you.”
Marco went still.
Mia’s stomach dropped.
Adrian continued.
“Twenty million dollars moved into Vitali Holdings the morning Mia Callaway was fired.”
Mia stared at Marco.
He stared back.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Check.”
Marco called someone.
Short order.
Account review.
While they waited, nobody spoke.
Mia’s mother remained on the phone.
She had heard enough to understand danger.
“Mia.”
“I’m here.”
“Do not come if you think you’re followed.”
“That ship sailed.”
Her mother made a sound halfway between crying and laughing.
“You are exactly like your father.”
Mia closed her eyes.
“Apparently I don’t know enough about him to take that as a compliment.”
Marco looked away.
His phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face became unreadable.
“How much?”
A pause.
“When?”
He disconnected.
Mia already knew.
“Twenty million.”
“Yes.”
“Source?”
“Northshore.”
Hartwell’s trust.
Mia sat back.
The day she was fired, someone moved twenty million dollars into Marco’s company.
A transaction designed to connect them before they had ever met.
Marco looked at Adrian.
“Why?”
Adrian smiled bitterly.
“Because Hartwell had already decided which story it wanted investigators to find.”
Mia understood.
Her termination.
Marco’s deposit.
Daniel’s death.
Her father’s file.
They were not separate scandals.
They were chapters.
Someone had been writing them for years.
Marco looked at Mia.
“We go to your mother.”
She stood.
This time, she did not argue.
They took the private elevator.
Inside, Marco said nothing.
Mia stared at the numbers descending over the door.
Finally she asked, “Did your father kill mine?”
Marco answered without hesitation.
“His decision helped put your father where he died.”
That was more honest than no.
Mia looked at him.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you had?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Even if it made me leave?”
He held her gaze.
“Yes.”
The car waited in the underground garage, but Mia stopped before getting in.
Marco turned.
“What?”
“I need one thing clear.”
He waited.
“If we find out your father knowingly caused mine to die, you do not decide how I react.”
His face tightened.
“I wouldn’t.”
“You might think you wouldn’t.”
“That is fair.”
“And you do not protect Luca from me if he knew.”
“I won’t.”
“Or Adrian.”
“No.”
“Or yourself.”
That one took longer.
Marco looked at her.
Then nodded.
“Or myself.”
Mia breathed.
“Good.”
Adrian, still under guard near the elevator bank, laughed.
“You two have known each other six hours.”
Mia looked at him.
“And you’ve known Marco years. Which of us got him to answer a direct question?”
Adrian’s smile disappeared.
Marco almost smiled.
Mia opened the car door.
Then paused.
“One more thing.”
Marco raised an eyebrow.
“You are not allowed to decide I am too emotional to see documents about my father.”
His expression became almost offended.
“I would never say too emotional.”
“You would say compromised.”
He looked away.
Caught.
Mia pointed.
“Exactly.”
Marco sighed.
“You are exhausting.”
“You hired me.”
“Yes.”
“Regret?”
His eyes held hers.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Something shifted between them.
Mia looked away first.
“Get in the car.”
Marco’s eyebrows rose.
“Was that an order?”
“Yes.”
He obeyed.
The elevator doors opened.
The elevator doors opened.
May you like
For one dangerous second, Mia believed him.
Then the lights went out.
