Chapter 13 - The Name Behind Marco
The file was corrupted.
Of course it was.
We had half a confession and no name.
Torres sent the card to digital forensics. Ricardo paced like a caged animal.
I watched Leo line up toy cars on the rug.
Black. Red. Blue.
Then one white sedan.
He pushed the white car behind the blue one.
“Who drove that?” I asked.
Leo whispered, “Grandpa.”
Ricardo stopped pacing.
“My father is dead.”
Leo shook his head. “Other grandpa.”
Sofia’s father.
Arturo Bellini.
A respected developer, donor, and public enemy of organized crime.
Ricardo laughed once, without humor. “He hated me.”
Victor said, “He blamed you for Sofia leaving the family.”
Torres looked through old records.
Arturo had publicly cut ties with Sofia after her marriage.
But his companies had quietly paid two of Marco’s shell businesses.
The room changed.
Ricardo sat down slowly.
“You’re telling me her father paid the man who set up her route?”
Torres held up a hand. “We’re telling you money moved. That’s all.”
Leo suddenly started crying.
“No grandpa.”
I knelt beside him. “What do you mean?”
He pointed at the white toy car.
“Grandpa took Mommy.”
Ricardo’s face emptied.
Then the front gate buzzer sounded.
The security camera showed an old man standing alone in the rain.
May you like
Arturo Bellini had built his reputation by publicly condemning men like Ricardo. Newspapers called him respectable, civic-minded, disciplined. That made the financial trail feel uglier, not cleaner. Respectability was just another costume if the money underneath it moved through the same shadows. Torres reminded us again that a payment proved a connection, not a murder. Ricardo barely heard her.
Arturo Bellini had come to the house.
