Chapter 1 - You’re Fired
Sofia tightened her arms around the cardboard box and whispered, "Then I'll leave."
Luca Bellucci stepped toward the conference table and noticed a library card trapped beneath one of her books.
There were three handwritten numbers on the back.
They matched the numbers missing from his private ledger.
Sofia hadn't been fired for what she knew.
She had been fired for what someone thought she knew.
For several seconds, nobody in the room moved.
Four men in dark suits stood around the walnut conference table, all pretending not to stare at Sofia Moretti.
Sofia felt every pair of eyes.
She refused to look at them.
Instead, she concentrated on the ridiculous little plant sticking out of her cardboard box.
Its leaves trembled whenever her hands did.
She hated that.
The plant had been given to her by an elderly woman at the Bellucci Foundation library six months earlier.
"Plants survive more than people think," the woman had told her.
Sofia had smiled then.
She wasn't smiling now.
Across the room, Luca Bellucci stood perfectly still.
He was thirty-two, tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in the kind of black suit that seemed designed specifically to make other men feel underdressed. Dark tattoos disappeared beneath his collar and traveled over the back of his right hand.
He didn't look angry.
That was what frightened people about Luca.
He almost never did.
"You may go," he said.
Sofia finally looked at him.
"May I?"
One of the men behind Luca shifted.
Luca's expression hardened.
Sofia continued before courage deserted her.
"That's generous."
"Sofia."
"What?"
His eyes flickered toward the other men.
It was a warning.
Don't make this worse.
Sofia understood.
She simply no longer cared.
Three years.
She had spent three years building the Bellucci Foundation's private archival library from a neglected collection of dusty boxes into one of the most organized private research collections in Manhattan.
Officially, the foundation funded literacy programs, historic preservation, and neighborhood libraries.
Unofficially?
Sofia had learned very quickly that asking questions about Luca Bellucci was a bad habit.
People lowered their voices when they said his name.
Politicians returned his calls.
Businessmen who had ignored him suddenly changed their minds.
And men with expensive suits occasionally entered the archive after midnight without checking out a single book.
Sofia had never wanted to know why.
Books were simple.
People weren't.
She had kept her head down.
Until yesterday.
She had been cataloging donations from one of Luca's deceased uncles when she found an old leather ledger hidden inside a hollowed-out volume of The Divine Comedy.
She had opened it.
She shouldn't have.
Most of the entries meant nothing.
Dates.
Initials.
Numbers.
Then Luca had appeared behind her.
"What are you reading?"
Sofia had nearly dropped the book.
"Something that apparently isn't Dante."
He had stared at the ledger.
Then at her.
For one strange second, she had seen something in Luca Bellucci she had never seen before.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
He had taken the ledger.
"Forget you saw this."
Sofia had crossed her arms.
"I already have."
Twenty-four hours later, she had been summoned upstairs.
Now she was unemployed.
Sofia adjusted the box against her hip.
"Goodbye, Mr. Bellucci."
She deliberately used the formal name.
Something changed in Luca's face.
Barely.
But she saw it.
During three years working around him, Sofia had become good at reading the things Luca didn't say.
He hated hearing Mr. Bellucci from her.
He always had.
She walked toward the doors.
"Sofia."
She stopped.
Don't turn around.
She turned around.
Luca had taken one step toward her.
His hand was resting against the conference table.
For a moment, the powerful man who had just humiliated her in front of everyone looked as though he wanted to say something entirely different.
Then his face closed again.
"Don't come back."
Sofia swallowed.
"Don't worry."
She left.
The glass doors closed behind her.
Inside, silence lasted exactly four seconds.
Then Matteo Ricci, Luca's oldest lieutenant, said, "That was brutal."
Luca turned.
Matteo lifted both hands.
"Just making an observation."
"Don't."
"You could've fired her privately."
"I needed everyone to believe it."
Matteo's expression changed.
The other three men looked at Luca.
Luca reached beneath the book Sofia had accidentally left on the table and pulled out the library card.
Three numbers were written across the back.
Matteo stared.
"Those are—"
"I know."
The previous night, Luca had discovered three pages cut from his uncle's ledger.
Pages containing names that could destroy people far more dangerous than Luca.
Sofia had been alone with the ledger for less than two minutes.
Someone had nevertheless searched her desk afterward.
Luca had seen the security footage that morning.
The man's face had been hidden.
But Luca recognized the way professionals moved.
Someone believed Sofia had information.
Keeping her inside Bellucci headquarters would paint a target directly on her back.
So Luca had done the only thing he could think of quickly enough.
He had thrown her out.
Publicly.
Cruelly.
Convincingly.
Matteo picked up the library card.
"Did she write these?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
Luca looked toward the closed doors.
"Because that's not her handwriting."
Matteo's humor vanished.
"So someone planted it."
"Yes."
"On her?"
"Or in her things."
Matteo lowered his voice.
"Then firing her doesn't solve the problem."
"No."
"It makes her easier to reach."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"I know."
Meanwhile, Sofia stepped into the elevator.
The moment the doors closed, she exhaled.
Her vision blurred.
"No."
She blinked hard.
She would not cry in Luca Bellucci's building.
She made it through the lobby.
She made it past the receptionist.
She made it onto the sidewalk.
Then she heard someone behind her.
"Sofia."
She spun around.
It was Elena, one of the foundation's assistants.
The younger woman hurried toward her.
"I heard."
"Apparently everyone did."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"Are you okay?"
Sofia looked at the box.
"I've been better."
Elena hesitated.
"Why did he do it?"
"He said I knew enough."
"Knew what?"
Sofia looked back at the skyscraper.
High above them, sunlight reflected off the windows of Luca's office.
"I wish I knew."
She didn't tell Elena about the ledger.
She didn't tell her about the strange numbers.
And she certainly didn't tell her that Luca's face when he fired her had looked less like anger than desperation.
Sofia took the subway downtown.
By five that evening, she was back in Queens, standing outside the small neighborhood library where she'd volunteered before Luca's foundation recruited her.
The library director, Mrs. Alvarez, stared at her cardboard box.
"Tell me you're visiting."
"I need a job."
Mrs. Alvarez's eyes widened.
"What happened?"
"Corporate restructuring."
"You're a terrible liar."
"I know."
Mrs. Alvarez hugged her.
"You can start tomorrow."
Sofia almost laughed.
"You don't even know what happened."
"I know you."
That was enough.
For the first time that day, Sofia cried.
Not because Luca had fired her.
Because someone had welcomed her back.
The next morning, she arrived at eight.
Children came in after school.
Retirees asked for mystery novels.
A teenager needed help researching colleges.
An exhausted father asked Sofia to find books about dinosaurs because his six-year-old had suddenly decided paleontology was his life's purpose.
Normal problems.
Normal people.
Sofia loved every second.
At six, she was shelving books near the front window when Mrs. Alvarez approached.
"Do you know someone with a very expensive car?"
Sofia looked up.
"What?"
Mrs. Alvarez pointed outside.
Across the street sat a black sedan.
Its windows were tinted.
Sofia stared.
Something cold moved through her stomach.
"How long has that been there?"
"Since lunch."
Sofia walked closer to the window.
The sedan pulled away.
The next day it returned.
Same place.
Same dark windows.
On the third day, Sofia deliberately walked outside.
The car drove away before she crossed the street.
On the fourth day, she memorized the license plate.
On the fifth day, she'd had enough.
At 4:17 p.m., Sofia marched out of the library.
The black sedan remained parked.
She crossed the street.
The driver's window lowered.
Matteo Ricci sat behind the wheel.
Sofia stared at him.
"You."
"Hello, librarian."
"Why are you following me?"
"I'm not."
"You're parked outside my workplace."
"Coincidence."
"For five days?"
"Manhattan traffic is unpredictable."
"We're in Queens."
Matteo considered that.
"Queens traffic is also unpredictable."
Sofia leaned down.
"Tell Luca to stop."
Matteo's face gave away nothing.
"Stop what?"
"Watching me."
"You think Luca sent me?"
"Didn't he?"
Before Matteo could answer, another black sedan turned onto the street.
His expression changed instantly.
"Go inside."
Sofia frowned.
"What?"
"Now."
The humor disappeared from his voice.
Matteo opened his door.
"Inside, Sofia."
A man stepped from the second sedan.
Gray coat.
Gloves.
A narrow scar beside his mouth.
He carried a leather briefcase.
He looked directly at Sofia.
Matteo moved between them.
"Who are you?"
The stranger smiled.
"I'm here for Ms. Moretti."
Sofia's pulse jumped.
"Why?"
The man opened the briefcase.
Inside was a photograph.
Sofia couldn't see it clearly.
Matteo could.
His face went pale.
Across the street, the library door opened.
And Luca Bellucci stepped outside.
He had been watching from inside the entire time.
The stranger turned toward him.
Then he said a name Luca had not heard in twelve years.
"Antonio Bellucci."
Luca stopped moving.
May you like
The stranger reached deeper into the briefcase.
And Sofia realized whatever came out next was the reason Luca had fired her.
