Chapter 7 - The Eleven Missing Minutes
The first person to believe Alessia about the emergency telephone was a technician named Francesca Bellucci. She arrived at the workers' assistance office carrying an insulated lunch bag and looking distinctly unimpressed by the idea of meeting a mafia boss's cleaner. Nadiya had contacted the independent company responsible for routine lift inspections. Francesca had agreed to speak after confirming that Alessia had filed a statement with the police.
"I'm not here to tell you who broke the lift," Francesca said. "I can tell you what our inspection record shows. Those are different things."
Alessia liked her immediately.
Francesca spread a dated inspection report on the table. The executive elevator had passed a normal test three days before the failure. On the night it stopped, an administrative account had marked the emergency-call network unavailable for a scheduled maintenance window. The company had received no corresponding work order. That wasn't proof of who used the account, but it contradicted Marco's explanation that an ordinary electrical fault caused everything.
"Could the car stop accidentally while the call network was switched off?" Giulia asked.
"It could. The two events need investigation. But somebody scheduled one of them. I would like to know why."
Rosa read the report twice. "Is there an independent record of calls?"
"Our service desk logs incoming connections," Francesca said. "There may be a trace even if the building's own archive is missing. I've requested preservation of what exists. The investigators can get the records through the proper channels."
Alessia imagined the little speaker hissing static while she stood inches from Enzo. She remembered him striking the panel and how frightened she'd been that he might strike her next. If somebody had intentionally left them there, the person had exploited both the machine and a man's temper. But she was not prepared to call a possibility a fact merely because it would make a satisfying story.
Luca's interview took place that afternoon. He admitted that he'd seen Matteo near the maintenance room with the yellow bucket and omitted it from his original report. He also admitted grabbing Alessia without cause. The police asked him about the man who had photographed the depot. Luca could not identify him. His honesty did not repair his omission, but it gave investigators an independent witness to compare with the access records.
Meanwhile, Marco Bellini was speaking to a journalist. A local website published a photograph of Enzo and Alessia outside the pharmacy beneath the headline THE BOSS, THE CLEANER AND THE BROKEN LIFT. Its anonymous source claimed Alessia had sought money after an improper encounter and invented a security conspiracy when Enzo refused. The photograph showed her staring at the folder, not the space she'd deliberately maintained between them. The caption called her a former employee, although she'd never been employed by Enzo directly.
Bruno rang, frightened. "My clients will think I let a scandal into their buildings."
"Then tell them the suspension was unjustified," Alessia said.
"I already sent the correction."
"Good. Don't send them my private life."
At Nona's apartment, a neighbor who'd read the story tried to ask whether Alessia was involved with the dangerous man. Nona shut the door gently but firmly. "My granddaughter is involved with paying the bills. Anything else you want to know about her can be asked to her face."
Alessia loved her so fiercely in that moment that she almost cried. Instead, she helped set the table. Rosa arrived with tomatoes and bread, and they ate a dinner nobody had bought as a show of power.
Nadiya offered to help Alessia make a brief public correction, but left the decision to her. Alessia chose a written statement prepared with the adviser. It said she had reported suspected identity misuse and threats, requested that her privacy be respected, and would not discuss an ongoing investigation. Giulia declined to be named. That choice mattered to Alessia as much as anything in the statement.
Enzo saw the article in his office. Marco's old contacts were still willing to carry a story that made a woman without money look like a liar. He could buy space in every newspaper in Milan; doing so would turn her account into a contest of his money against Marco's. He asked his lawyer how to correct the company's employment claim and preserve the source material instead.
"There is one thing you can do without involving me," Alessia told him when he called. "Tell the truth about what you signed. Even the parts that make you look bad."
"I will."
"And stop calling every time your name is in the news."
He gave a short, rueful laugh. "Understood."
That evening Francesca called Nadiya with an update: investigators had arranged access to the independent service-desk log, which showed that the emergency signal had been received and then interrupted by an administrator command. The account belonged to Marco's department, not to the outside maintenance company. The missing eleven minutes were a deliberate gap in the records, though the question of who issued the command remained open.
Alessia was writing that finding into her notebook when another notification lit her phone. The local website had uploaded a short video from Enzo's conference room. He stood beside Marco three days before the failure and said, distinctly, "Make this problem disappear before the audit."
The clip ended there.
The comments were already full of people who believed they'd heard a confession. Alessia watched it twice. She couldn't see what document Enzo was holding, and she couldn't hear what either man had said before those eight words. She remembered his apology, his frightening conduct in the elevator, and his signature on the renewal. She had reasons to doubt him and reasons not to trust a clipped recording.
Nadiya sent a message: DO NOT GUESS. REQUEST THE FULL RECORDING.
May you like
Then Enzo called once more, despite her instruction. This time he didn't ask her to defend him.
"That video is real," he said. "Those are my words. I need to tell you what I meant before somebody else tells you what to believe."
