Chapter 4 - THE PERFECT FRAME
Clara stared at Dante.
For a second, she actually thought she had misunderstood him.
“Me?”
Dante’s expression gave nothing away.
Rosa immediately shook her head.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Clara stood.
“What exactly did your uncle say?”
“He says one of the shell accounts is connected to an LLC registered under your father’s name.”
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“And he spent the final three years of his life fighting leukemia.”
“I know that too.”
“Then explain how he became part of a criminal conspiracy.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“I didn’t say I believed it.”
“You didn’t say you didn’t.”
Rosa looked at her son.
“Dante.”
He did not take his eyes from Clara.
“There are documents.”
“What documents?”
“Corporate filings.”
“Show me.”
“Clara—”
“Show me.”
The words came out louder than she intended.
Two guards outside the room shifted.
Dante glanced toward them.
“Not here.”
Clara laughed once.
It contained no humor.
“Interesting. Someone enters my bedroom, your employee ends up dead, your mother may have been deliberately drugged, and now suddenly my dead father owned a company connected to the money. But I’m supposed to politely wait upstairs?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You’re coming with me.”
Dante led her to his office.
It was the first time Clara had been allowed inside.
The room was nothing like she expected.
No weapons displayed on the walls.
No dramatic paintings.
No giant throne-like desk.
Books.
Dark shelves.
Family photographs.
A view of the water.
A photograph of Rosa when she was much younger stood beside an old black-and-white picture of three boys.
Dante noticed Clara looking.
“My brothers.”
“You have brothers?”
“Had.”
She looked at him.
He opened a laptop instead of explaining.
Nico entered carrying a file.
Dante turned the screen.
An incorporation document appeared.
HUGHES MEDICAL LOGISTICS LLC.
Registered nine years earlier.
Owner: Thomas Hughes.
Clara felt dizzy.
“That’s my father’s name.”
“Yes.”
“He was a high school music teacher.”
Dante studied her.
“He never owned a business?”
“He barely understood online banking.”
Nico slid another document onto the desk.
“This company received transfers from one of Carlo’s subsidiaries. Then funds moved into the account that paid Evan.”
Clara looked from the papers to Dante.
“Someone stole my father’s identity.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
Dante leaned back.
“You’re angry at the wrong person.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Because from where I’m standing, I entered this house because your people investigated every detail of my life. Now my father’s name appears in accounts tied to an attempted attack.”
“You entered this house after the company existed for nine years.”
“And you think I knew?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Clara stopped.
Dante’s eyes remained on hers.
“I don’t think you knew.”
Her anger softened slightly.
“Then why look at me like that downstairs?”
“Because Carlo wanted me to.”
“What?”
“He called at exactly the moment Nico gave me the information.”
Nico nodded.
“Too convenient.”
Dante continued.
“He expected me to react.”
Clara understood.
“He wanted you suspicious of me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante’s gaze shifted toward the window.
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
Clara looked at the incorporation documents again.
“My father had medical debt.”
Dante nodded.
“Could someone have accessed his information through the hospital?”
“Possibly.”
“What about the account?”
“Opened online.”
“Signature?”
“Electronic.”
Clara sat down.
For months after her father died, she had hated every piece of mail with his name on it.
Now his identity had become evidence in something terrifying.
“I want copies.”
Dante looked at Nico.
“Give her everything.”
Nico hesitated.
“Dante.”
“She deserves to know.”
Clara looked up.
Something in his voice steadied her.
For the next two hours, they worked together.
Nico traced addresses.
Clara identified which ones her father had never used.
Dante called attorney Julian Price and ordered him to pull archived records.
One address led to a post office box in Brooklyn.
Another led to a medical supply company that had closed three years earlier.
Then Clara saw something.
“Wait.”
She leaned toward the laptop.
“This doctor.”
Dante looked.
DR. HAROLD VANCE.
His name appeared as an authorized medical consultant on one of the shell companies.
Clara’s pulse quickened.
“What?”
“He treated my father.”
Dante became very still.
“At the hospital?”
“Yes. Not his oncologist. He was one of the internal medicine physicians.”
Nico reached for his phone.
Clara continued.
“And I’ve seen that name somewhere else.”
“Where?”
She searched her memory.
Then everything clicked.
“Rosa’s hospital chart.”
Dante stood.
“What about it?”
“Vance signed a consultation note the night she had the stroke.”
No one spoke.
Nico was already typing.
Thirty seconds later, he looked up.
“Vance works at St. Vincent Medical Center. Consulting physician. He also owns a private practice.”
Dante’s voice turned cold.
“Bring him in.”
Clara stood sharply.
“No.”
Dante looked at her.
“Here we go again.”
“You can’t kidnap a doctor.”
“I didn’t say kidnap.”
“What does ‘bring him in’ mean in your world?”
Nico coughed.
Dante glared.
Clara crossed her arms.
“Call your lawyer.”
“I have one.”
“Use him.”
Dante stared at her for several seconds.
Then he picked up his phone.
“Julian.”
Clara smiled faintly.
Dante pointed toward the door.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look pleased with yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
By evening, Julian had obtained enough information to make things worse.
Dr. Vance had significant gambling debt.
Over two hundred thousand dollars.
Some of it owed to bookmakers connected to businesses controlled by Carlo Marino.
Three days before Rosa’s stroke, the debt vanished.
The following week, Vance deposited sixty thousand dollars into an account under his wife’s maiden name.
Dante wanted him arrested.
Julian explained that they did not yet have proof strong enough to connect Vance directly to Rosa’s medication.
Clara wanted the medication tested.
The laboratory promised preliminary results within forty-eight hours.
Carlo wanted dinner.
His call came at seven.
Dante listened.
“No.”
Pause.
“No, I don’t care that you’re family.”
Another pause.
Dante’s expression changed.
“Fine.”
He ended the call.
Clara looked at him.
“What?”
“He’s coming here.”
Rosa’s face hardened.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante looked at Clara.
“To explain why her father’s name is attached to his money.”
Carlo Marino arrived at eight thirty.
He was sixty-one.
Silver hair.
Tailored black suit.
Warm smile.
If Clara had passed him on the street, she might have mistaken him for a retired senator.
He greeted Rosa first.
“My beautiful sister.”
Rosa did not return the affection.
“Sit.”
Carlo sighed.
“Still giving orders.”
“I taught Dante.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
His gaze moved toward Clara.
“And this must be the famous therapist.”
Clara extended no hand.
“Clara Hughes.”
“I know.”
That unsettled her.
Carlo sat across from Dante.
Nico stood against the wall.
Julian joined by video.
The documents were placed on the table.
Dante did not waste time.
“Explain.”
Carlo adjusted his cuffs.
“I can’t.”
“You called me claiming Clara was connected.”
“I called because my people discovered the same records.”
“Your people?”
“I still oversee half the companies your father built.”
Dante’s expression sharpened.
“Not for much longer.”
Carlo smiled.
“There’s the temper.”
Clara watched him carefully.
Carlo was trying to provoke Dante.
Exactly as Dante had predicted.
Carlo turned to Clara.
“Your father owed money.”
Clara stiffened.
“Medical debt.”
“Debt is debt.”
“My father never knew you.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Carlo leaned back.
“What did Thomas tell you about his younger years?”
Clara frowned.
“He was a teacher.”
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
Carlo looked toward Dante.
“Ask him.”
Clara followed his gaze.
Dante’s face had become unreadable.
“Ask me what?”
Carlo smiled.
“Tell her where Thomas Hughes worked before becoming a teacher.”
Clara looked at Dante.
“You know?”
Dante said nothing.
Something cold formed in her stomach.
“Dante.”
Carlo answered for him.
“Your father worked for Dante’s father.”
Clara felt the room tilt.
“No.”
“Thomas Hughes was Salvatore Marino’s bookkeeper for five years.”
“You’re lying.”
Carlo reached inside his jacket.
Nico immediately moved.
Carlo raised both hands.
“Photograph.”
He slowly produced an old picture.
Then placed it on the table.
Clara stared.
Her father was younger.
Maybe twenty-five.
Standing beside Salvatore Marino.
And beside them was Carlo.
Clara’s throat tightened.
“He never told me.”
Carlo’s voice softened.
“Parents keep secrets.”
“Why did he leave?”
Carlo looked toward Dante.
“Because he discovered something.”
Dante stood.
“That’s enough.”
Clara looked at him.
“No.”
“Clara.”
“No. I’m tired of everyone deciding what I deserve to know.”
She turned toward Carlo.
“What did my father discover?”
Carlo smiled slowly.
“Something Salvatore Marino would have killed to keep buried.”
Rosa whispered, “Carlo, don’t.”
But Carlo had already won the room.
He leaned toward Clara.
“Your father discovered who ordered the murder of Dante’s oldest brother.”
Dante’s chair struck the floor behind him.
Clara looked at him.
May you like
Carlo continued.
“And Thomas Hughes died before he could ever tell Dante the truth.”
