Chapter 8 - The Trap at My Restaurant
Dante’s plan terrified me.
That was probably how I knew it was his.
We would leak that the recording was damaged.
Unusable.
We would let Niccolo believe the only surviving evidence remained hidden somewhere inside Bellini’s.
Then we would wait.
Detective Keene hated the idea.
“Absolutely not.”
Dante said, “He'll come.”
“Or send someone.”
“Either helps.”
“Elena is not bait.”
I said:
“I decide that.”
Both of them looked at me.
Dante recovered first.
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
I chose.
The restaurant closed for two nights.
Plainclothes officers took positions.
Marco's security stayed away.
That was deliberate.
Niccolo believed Dante's people were compromised.
He would trust police presence even less.
We created a fake index card.
Sunday Sauce — master copy, basement wine rack.
We left my mother's recovered recipe box visible near the office.
The actual cassette was already in police evidence.
At eleven forty-three, someone entered through the kitchen.
Not Niccolo.
Dr. Elias Grant.
The family doctor who had supposedly flown to Argentina.
Apparently he had returned through Montreal under another passport.
Police arrested him before he reached the basement.
He asked for a lawyer.
Then he saw Dante.
His face changed.
“You don't know what your uncle will do.”
Dante said nothing.
Grant laughed nervously.
“He made you.”
That got him.
Not visibly.
But I saw it.
“You think your father built you?” Grant continued. “Niccolo did.”
Keene removed Grant.
Still no Niccolo.
Midnight.
One.
Two.
We waited.
At two-thirty, Vittorio woke at the safe apartment and became agitated.
Officers called me.
“He keeps saying Elena.”
I almost left.
Then one of the cameras showed a man approaching Bellini’s rear entrance.
Older.
Gray hair.
No bodyguards.
Niccolo.
He came himself.
Dante watched the monitor.
“Why?”
“Because he doesn't trust anybody anymore,” Keene said.
Niccolo entered.
He walked through the dining room slowly.
Stopped at Table Seven.
Touched the chair where Vittorio had sat.
For a second, he looked sad.
That surprised me.
Then he entered the kitchen.
“June,” he whispered.
He found the recipe box.
Opened it.
Saw the fake card.
Went to the basement.
Dante wanted to follow.
Keene stopped him.
“Wait.”
Niccolo found the empty wine rack.
Realized.
He looked directly toward the hidden camera.
Then smiled.
“Dante.”
My skin went cold.
He knew.
The microphone captured him clearly.
“I know you're listening.”
Dante stepped toward the stairs.
Keene swore.
“You move, operation is over.”
Dante continued.
I grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
He looked at me.
“He wants you angry.”
That stopped him.
Niccolo’s voice came through the monitor.
“Your father was weak long before I touched him.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“June made him believe he could fight me.”
He laughed softly.
“She was brave.”
My stomach twisted.
“Stupid, but brave.”
I wanted to go downstairs and hit him.
Now Dante grabbed my arm.
Fair.
Niccolo continued.
“I did not intend her death.”
Keene looked at the audio technician.
Recording.
Good.
“I told Hale to scare her.”
My breath caught.
“Then she turned left instead of right.”
He shook his head.
“People die because of small decisions.”
I hated him.
Then:
“Vittorio was different.”
Dante leaned closer to the screen.
“My brother knew what he was signing.”
No.
Contradicted Grant.
Contradicted the ledger.
But maybe enough for defense.
Niccolo opened the wine cabinet.
Nothing.
He slammed it shut.
“Where is it?”
Silence.
He shouted:
“Dante!”
Keene whispered:
“Come on.”
We needed more.
Niccolo paced.
“You want confession?”
My heart stopped.
He laughed.
“Fine.”
He looked straight at the camera.
“Yes. I had him medicated.”
Dante stopped breathing.
“Yes. I put him in Saint Agnes.”
Keene’s eyes sharpened.
“Yes. I used his name to move money.”
He stepped closer to the camera.
“But your father abandoned you before I did any of that.”
Dante’s face changed.
“He ran.”
Niccolo smiled.
“Because he saw what you were becoming.”
That landed.
Hard.
Then Niccolo said:
“And you became it anyway.”
Dante started toward the stairs again.
I stepped in front of him.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“Don't give him the ending he wants.”
His breathing was heavy.
I put both hands against his chest.
“Stay.”
He looked at me.
Then slowly stopped.
Police entered the basement.
Niccolo did not resist.
As they handcuffed him, he laughed.
“You think this changes anything?”
Keene said:
“It changes where you sleep.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“Dante!”
No answer.
“Ask your father why he really left!”
Dante closed his eyes.
Niccolo shouted one last thing before police removed him.
“ASK HIM WHAT HE DID TO ROSE!”
Dante went white.
Rose.
His mother.
The woman in the sailboat photograph.
Dead for twenty years.
Dante looked at me.
“My mother drowned.”
I remembered Vittorio whispering her name.
Rose.
Dante’s voice became hollow.
“My father was with her.”
May you like
And just when we thought we understood why Vittorio had disappeared—
Niccolo opened a secret older than all of us.
