Chapter 7 - The Chef's Ledger
The paper felt suddenly cold in my hands.
I stared down at the signature at the bottom of the federal deposition form. Mateo Rossi. Below his name, typed in clean, clinical legal font, was a detailed itemized record of every illicit shipping container that had passed through the Moretti docks over the last four years—and a formal statement testifying that Luca Moretti personally oversaw the diversion of untracked cargo.
My breath caught in my throat.
Mateo. The quiet, protective head chef who had warned me about Vanessa on my first night, who had smuggled me extra food, who had acted like a sympathetic older brother in the chaotic belly of the Moretti estate—he wasn't just a loyal employee. He was a federal informant.
The sound of a floorboard creaking outside the study door shattered the silence.
I scrambled, snapping the manila folder shut and shoving it back into the bottom drawer just as the brass doorknob turned.
I threw myself sideways, ducking behind a heavy leather armchair as the door swung open. A sliver of pale morning light cut across the Persian rug. Footsteps entered the room—slow, deliberate, and heavy.
"I know you're in here, Olivia."
It wasn't Vanessa. It was Salvatore Bellini.
The older man walked toward the mahogany desk, his posture stiff, wearing an expensive silk dressing gown over his pajamas. He didn't look down. He simply reached out, picked up a silver fountain pen from the blotter, and spoke into the empty room.
"You're a very poor spy, my dear," Salvatore said calmly, not even turning around. "Or perhaps you're simply a very brave one. Which is it?"
I slowly stood up from behind the armchair, my legs trembling.
Salvatore turned to face me. He looked older in the harsh morning light, the lines around his eyes deep and tired, but his gaze was sharp and entirely devoid of panic. He didn't look like a desperate patriarch whose shipping empire was collapsing. He looked like a man who was holding all the cards and waiting for the right moment to play them.
"Mr. Bellini," I managed, keeping my voice level.
"Vanessa thinks she's managing you," Salvatore said, walking slowly toward the fireplace. He didn't raise his voice. "She thinks you're her little instrument to secure Project Vanguard and ruin Luca Moretti. But Vanessa is young, and she's blinded by her hatred for a man she thinks she can outsmart."
"You know about the file," I said, my heart pounding.
"I know everything that enters this house, Olivia," Salvatore replied quietly. He turned his graying head toward me. "Including the fact that Luca Moretti didn't promote you to his private fourth-floor suite just because he appreciated your housekeeping. He put you there to watch my daughter. And now, you're standing in my study, looking at Mateo’s deposition."
"Mateo works for Luca," I pointed out, my mind racing to connect the pieces. "Why would he be an informant for the federal prosecutor?"
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"Because Mateo isn't just a chef," Salvatore said softly. "He's Marcus Vance’s half-brother. And Luca has known about it for two years."
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