Chapter 6 - The Phone That Never Reached the Police
I found Anton in the security office burning paperwork.
He had a metal wastebasket beneath the desk, and the flames were climbing through a stack of printed reports.
I drew my pistol.
“Step away.”
Anton dropped the papers.
“Sir, I can explain.”
“Start with my wife's phone.”
His face changed.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
“Where is it?”
He stared into the basket as if the answer might be hiding among the ashes.
“I took it from the wreckage.”
“You stole evidence from my wife's accident?”
“I was ordered to retrieve it.”
“By whom?”
He closed his eyes.
“Luca.”
I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
“You let me bury my wife while her phone sat in my brother's possession?”
“I didn't know what was on it!”
“Fourteen months, Anton! Fourteen months of believing I had lost everything, and you let me spend every day hunting the wrong people!”
He didn't defend himself.
That made my rage worse.
“Where is the phone?”
“In the north wing. Inside the old communications cabinet.”
I released him.
“Take me there.”
We found it inside a locked metal box behind an obsolete radio system. Isabella's phone was cracked, water-damaged, and missing its SIM card.
But it hadn't been destroyed.
I recognized the small blue ribbon wrapped around the case. Matteo had tied it there months before the explosion.
For a moment, the world stopped.
I remembered Isabella holding the phone to her ear while she spoke to her sister. I remembered her laughing at ridiculous videos Matteo showed her. I remembered the way she used to record our son's first sentences because she believed they were treasures.
I had been so consumed with punishing the world that I had forgotten how she sounded.
“Get it repaired,” I ordered.
“Sir, it could take days.”
“Then begin.”
Anton nodded.
As he reached for the phone, I caught his wrist.
“Did you know she was investigating Luca?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she told me not to.”
I stared at him.
“She trusted you?”
“No,” he said. “She was afraid of what you would do if you knew.”
The answer struck harder than it should have.
“What does that mean?”
Anton swallowed.
“Isabella discovered that money was being moved from your legitimate companies into accounts controlled by Luca. She believed he was financing a private operation. When she confronted him, he threatened her.”
“And she came to you?”
“She asked me to help her collect evidence.”
“But you betrayed her.”
“I betrayed you both.”
I wanted to hear him suffer. I wanted to despise him without complication.
Instead, I saw a man who had sold his loyalty for money and then spent fourteen months trying to convince himself he hadn't sold a life.
“Get out of my sight,” I said.
Anton bowed his head.
“Yes, sir.”
When he left, I took the phone upstairs.
Clara was in the sitting room, helping Matteo arrange his drawings in a folder.
The moment he saw me, he went still.
I stopped several feet away.
“I have something that belonged to your mother.”
He looked at the phone.
His lips parted.
Then he reached out.
I placed it in his hands.
Matteo traced the blue ribbon with one finger. For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he pressed the power button.
The screen remained dark.
He began to panic.
“It's broken,” Clara said gently. “That doesn't mean everything inside it is gone.”
Matteo looked at me.
“Can you fix it?”
I had faced armed men without blinking. I had survived betrayals that destroyed entire businesses.
But I couldn't promise my son that I could recover his mother's voice.
“I'll try,” I said.
He held the phone against his chest.
“Mommy said something before the car went boom.”
Clara went perfectly still.
I lowered myself into the chair opposite him.
“What did she say?”
Matteo took a trembling breath.
“She told me to remember the man who said he was my uncle.”
Luca.
The name burned through my mind.
“Did you see him inside the car?”
Matteo nodded.
“No. Outside.”
“Where?”
“By Mommy's door.”
I kept my voice calm.
“Was he wearing the ring?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
Matteo's fingers curled around the phone.
“He tried to open the door. Mommy locked it.”
“Then what?”
“She told him to go away.”
Matteo began crying.
“He was angry, Daddy. He hit the window. Then Mommy told me to close my eyes and cover my ears.”
Clara wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
I fought to keep my face composed.
“Did your mother say anything else?”
Matteo looked at me through his tears.
“She said, 'Your father was right about you.'”
My chest tightened.
“What did she mean?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Neither did I.
May you like
But I had the terrible feeling that Isabella had been trying to warn me about my brother for a long time.
And that I had mistaken her warnings for the doubts of a frightened wife.
