Chapter 4
Marco finally lost his temper.
“Enough.”
His palm struck the archive table.
The sound cracked through the room.
Camilla flinched.
Domenico did not.
Marco’s breathing came harder now.
“You're digging through twenty-year-old garbage because a vase broke.”
Domenico’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“No.”
He spoke quietly.
“I’m digging because you lied three times in twenty minutes.”
Marco stared back.
For several seconds neither man moved.
Then Camilla spoke.
“What did you keep?”
Marco ignored her.
She stepped closer.
“Look at me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Not here.”
Camilla laughed bitterly.
“Not here?”
Her eyes had begun to shine.
“My father died with half this family calling him a thief, and you knew there were records?”
“I said I didn't read them.”
“Then why keep one box?”
Marco said nothing.
That silence changed the power in the room.
For the first time, Camilla was no longer standing beside her husband.
She was standing across from him.
Domenico ordered the private family archive sealed.
The collection occupied several climate-controlled rooms beneath the old Valenti townhouse in Manhattan.
Marco had managed access for more than a decade.
The archive supervisor produced inventory logs.
One box from South Pier arrived eleven years earlier.
It was cataloged simply:
A.V. — PRIVATE / RESTRICTED.
Two months later, Marco removed it.
No return entry existed.
Domenico looked at him.
“Where did it go?”
Marco’s voice had become flat.
“I don't know.”
Camilla stepped toward him.
Her hand trembled at her side.
“You built our marriage telling me Domenico’s father destroyed mine.”
Marco looked at her.
“That’s what everyone believed.”
“You had the box.”
“I had a box.”
“Stop changing the words.”
Her voice cracked.
Marco's expression hardened.
Camilla's anger became visible in her breathing.
Short.
Fast.
But when she spoke again, her voice dropped.
“What did you find?”
Marco looked away.
That was enough.
Domenico’s security chief entered carrying an archival photograph.
The box had been photographed before removal.
A handwritten inventory label was visible along one side.
Domenico read it.
BANK LEDGERS.
ENZO STATEMENT.
RAFFAELE CORRESPONDENCE.
Camilla stared at the photograph.
Then slowly looked toward Marco.
“My father wrote a statement?”
Marco's lips parted.
No sound came.
Camilla stepped closer.
“What did it say?”
Marco looked at Domenico instead.
And Domenico finally understood something important.
May you like
Marco was not afraid of Enzo’s statement.
He was afraid of Camilla reading Raffaele’s correspondence.
