Chapter 3 - My Brother's Key
My older brother Matteo entered the room carrying a glass of whiskey.
He stopped when he saw Carlo beside me.
"This room is supposed to be sealed."
"So was my wife," I said.
His eyes moved to the message on the wall.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
That was enough.
I crossed the room and slammed him into the door.
"You knew."
"Get your hands off me."
"You knew she was here."
"I knew Mother moved her into the west wing because Grace was having problems."
"Iron bars are not a medical treatment."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"You were gone. Somebody had to keep this family from falling apart."
"By imprisoning my pregnant wife?"
"You don't know what happened."
"Then tell me."
He looked at Carlo.
"Leave."
Carlo didn't move until I nodded.
When we were alone, Matteo told me Grace had discovered irregular transfers from a company account tied to the Rossi foundation. More than eighteen million dollars had been moved through shell charities while I was overseas.
"She accused Mother of stealing?"
"She accused several people."
"Including you?"
He didn't answer.
That was an answer.
Matteo took a drink.
"Grace became obsessed. She threatened to send records to federal investigators. Mother panicked."
"So you locked her up."
"I didn't lock anybody up."
"But you knew."
His silence made me want to break something.
Then I saw it.
A key ring clipped inside his jacket.
One key was newly polished brass.
The same shape as the key Carlo had given me.
I pulled out Carlo's key and held it beside Matteo's.
Perfect match.
"You said you never entered this room."
Matteo's face changed.
I stepped closer.
"Why do you have a key?"
He reached for it.
I caught his wrist.
The whiskey glass shattered on the floor.
And underneath the noise, from somewhere below us, came a faint sound.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three more.
May you like
Matteo went pale.
Because both of us knew there was no room beneath the west wing on the house plans.
