Chapter 2
Anna Corsini’s death had been ruled an accident eighteen months earlier.
She had left a benefit dinner in Westchester shortly before ten at night and driven toward the Corsini estate in Bedford.
Rain had begun.
Her sedan left the road on a curve, struck a barrier, and rolled down an embankment.
There were no other vehicles identified.
No alcohol in her blood.
No obvious mechanical defect noted in the final report.
The conclusion had been simple.
Wet pavement.
Speed.
Loss of control.
Raffaele had accepted it because grief had made simple answers easier to survive.
Lucy had been eighteen months old.
For almost a year afterward, she woke calling for her mother.
Celeste had been one of the people who helped.
She had known Anna through charity events and family dinners. After the funeral, she brought meals, stayed with Lucy during meetings, and sat with Raffaele through nights when he barely spoke.
Their relationship began slowly.
Raffaele married her nine months ago.
Marcus had already been part of his organization for more than a decade.
Efficient.
Controlled.
Trusted with transportation, estate security, and several legitimate logistics companies.
Which meant Marcus had also overseen the Corsini vehicle fleet when Anna died.
Raffaele stood in his private study that night with the old photograph beneath a desk lamp.
His older sister Teresa had arrived and taken Lucy to the guest wing.
Celeste and Marcus had been moved to separate rooms under guard while attorneys were contacted.
Raffaele enlarged the photograph on his phone.
The mechanic beside Marcus was familiar.
Peter Sloan.
Former fleet supervisor.
Raffaele remembered Peter leaving suddenly two weeks after Anna’s funeral.
Marcus had said the man stole parts.
Raffaele had never spoken to him personally.
He had been too buried in grief to care.
His attorney, Claire Bennett, entered the study.
She was fifty-one, sharp, patient, and unimpressed by the family’s habits.
“You struck both of them.”
“Yes.”
“There are witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Keep answering like that.”
Raffaele looked at her.
“I’m not asking you to protect me from what I did.”
“That would be new.”
He ignored the comment.
Claire examined the tickets.
“Celeste has no parental rights over Lucy.”
“I know.”
“Trying to take her internationally without your consent matters.”
“So does putting her inside a suitcase.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at the photograph.
“What exactly are we trying to prove?”
Raffaele stared at Marcus standing beside the garage.
“I don’t know yet.”
That answer bothered him.
For eighteen months he had lived as though Anna’s death was settled.
May you like
Now the last photograph Lucy had of her mother was telling him that one of his most trusted men had been somewhere he claimed he had not been.
And Raffaele could no longer remember whether he had ever asked Marcus where he was that day.
