Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
Finally he muttered, “You have forty-eight hours before my patience becomes somebody else’s problem.”
“You do not set my deadlines.”
“Consider it an estimate.”
“Optimistic.”
Mauro told him exactly what he could do with the estimate, and Taddeo ended the call.
Isolde stared at the silent speaker. “I am going to miss mafia diplomacy if I ever return to a normal workplace.”
Taddeo’s eyes found hers. “That is a deeply concerning thing to say.”
“Marcus once sent a six-paragraph email because someone took the last clean mug from the staff kitchen. I may have been underestimating how peaceful my old conflicts were.”
A real laugh escaped Orsino.
Even Taddeo smiled, and for several seconds the library felt almost ordinary despite the evidence covering every surface.
The warmth between Isolde and Taddeo returned just enough that she became aware of how close he stood, and his gaze lingered on her in a way that reminded her they had begun finding their way toward each other again without pretending the breach between them had disappeared.
Then the corporate chart dragged them back into the investigation.
Once Mauro’s role was separated from the larger conspiracy, several entities resolved more cleanly toward Lelio-controlled contractors and administrative channels.
Others did not. Calder Maritime, East Vey Development, two Delaware companies, and the Cayman administrator Corwin had flagged still passed through financial-service structures with no obvious Ardizzi ownership, and Venn Meridian appeared repeatedly without ever becoming central enough to accuse.
Isolde drew a pencil line between two companies. “Silas is still everywhere without ever standing in the middle.”
“That is one of his more irritating qualities,” Taddeo said.
“Besides his face?”
“I have never criticized his face.”
“You have expressed opinions through tone.”
Orsino adjusted his glasses. “For accuracy, Taddeo dislikes Venn because he supplies information before anyone is certain they need it, remains useful under suspicious circumstances, and is correct often enough to make hostility look unreasonable.”
Isolde nodded. “That is exactly what I meant.”
Taddeo gave them both a look before turning back to the chart. “Venn Meridian legitimately advises companies, restructures debt, arranges introductions, and refers clients to corporate-service firms. Every one of these connections has a plausible commercial explanation.”
“But Lelio’s people do not explain all of the financial architecture.” Isolde traced the outside entities again. “So Lelio can be the internal traitor without necessarily being the person sophisticated enough to build every layer.”
“That is where I am now,” Taddeo said. “Ardizzi explains the internal access, the framing, and increasingly the museum. He does not yet explain the whole financial machine.”
Orsino nodded. “Which means solving Lelio may not solve whoever helped him move the money.”
Isolde looked at Silas’s name on the page. “And Venn remains suspicious without being guilty of anything we can prove.”
“Yes.” Taddeo folded that portion of the corporate chart and placed it into a separate file instead of allowing it to contaminate the Lelio chronology. “I am not making Silas guilty because I dislike how often he appears.”
The temporary phone vibrated beside Isolde’s elbow.
Three people noticed.
Only one looked away.
Taddeo’s eyes moved briefly toward the device before returning deliberately to the Venn file. He did not angle himself toward the screen or ask whether the message was Corwin before Isolde had even opened it.
The restraint was small.
It still mattered.
Isolde picked up the phone.
Corwin had not sent another nervous fragment or question about whether she was safe. The message was formatted with enough structure that she recognized what it was before she finished the first paragraph.
A proposal.
Her pulse slowed rather than accelerated, which she had begun to recognize as the particular way her body responded when something became serious enough to require all of her attention.
“Taddeo.”
He looked up immediately. “What happened?”
“Corwin sent terms.”
Taddeo went still but remained on the opposite side of the table. “Read them first.”
The instruction surprised her.
Not give me the phone.
Not even tell me now.
Read them first.
Isolde did.
Corwin offered to return the entire $8.4 million under Bellandi control.
He would surrender the complete archive, remaining passwords, original source records, and every piece of evidence he retained concerning the older diversion.
He would provide testimony, recorded if necessary, describing what he had discovered and identifying everyone he had suspected.
In exchange, he wanted safe passage out of Crownport and a guarantee that Bellandi people would neither pursue nor kill him.
Then she reached the final condition.
Isolde released into my custody at the exchange.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Of course he had written it that way.
Not Isolde is free to leave with me if she wants.
Not I want my sister released.
Into my custody.
The anger arrived with astonishing purity.
“He wants to make the trade,” she said.
Taddeo’s face hardened. “What does he offer?”
“The eight point four, the complete archive, passwords, physical records, and testimony. He wants safe passage and a guarantee the Bellandis don’t kill him afterward.”
Orsino had stopped moving papers.
Taddeo’s eyes remained on Isolde. “What else?”
She laughed softly without amusement. “Me. He wants me released into his custody at the exchange.”
Something changed in Taddeo’s face.
Possession, anger, fear—whatever it was, he contained it before it became action.
Isolde placed the phone on the table. “Apparently custody becomes an affectionate concept if the man using the word believes he loves me enough.”
Taddeo said nothing.
She saw the calculations anyway.
Money.
Corwin.
Evidence.
Lelio.
Cesare.
The same machinery that had transformed Isolde into leverage on Mercer Street beginning to turn again.
“Don’t.”
His brow tightened. “Don’t what?”
“Start deciding whether it’s a good deal.”
“I’m thinking about what he offered.”
“That is exactly what I mean.” Isolde stood and folded her arms. “He offers the Bellandis everything they want, and the final term is that I move from the control of one man who thinks he knows what keeps me safe to another man who thinks exactly the same thing.”
“I am not reducing you to an exchange term.”
“You already did.”
The sentence stopped him.
Isolde held his gaze. “This is the outcome you built the kidnapping around. Corwin steals from your family, you take the person he loves, and eventually he comes back with the money because he wants her released.”
Taddeo’s jaw tightened. “That does not mean I intend to accept his terms.”
“Do you?”
He hesitated.
It was not long.
It did not need to be.
The pain came before anger because Isolde understood what lived inside the silence.
“Cesare,” she said.
Orsino quietly removed his glasses.
Isolde looked between them. “What did Cesare tell you?”
Taddeo did not try to evade her. “Before Corwin sent this, Cesare told me that if he offered the eight point four in exchange for you, I was to make the trade.”
The information settled with a grim familiarity.
She remembered asking Taddeo whether Cesare had issued an order involving her after his earlier meeting at Bellandi House. Taddeo had not lied exactly. He had simply decided she did not need the full answer yet.
“When?”
“Before I broke the privacy agreement.”
“And you did not tell me.”
“No.”
“I asked whether Cesare had given you an order involving me.”
“Yes.”
“You said you would tell me when I needed to know.”
“Yes.”
Isolde looked away for a second, forcing herself not to turn one failure into all failures.
Taddeo had changed since then. He had told her about Cesare’s forty-eight-hour ultimatum without waiting until it became unavoidable.
He had respected her communication with Corwin since violating it.
None of that erased this earlier decision.
“You should have told me when the order was given,” she said.
“Yes.”
Her gaze snapped back toward him. “Don’t agree with me because you think accepting blame makes it disappear.”
“I don’t.” His voice remained quiet. “I should have told you because the order concerned what would happen to you. Whether Corwin had formally made the offer yet was irrelevant.”
That was the right answer.
It did not repair the wrong decision.
“Did you agree to Cesare’s order?”
“No.”
Hope came too quickly.
Isolde distrusted it immediately.
“Did you refuse?”
Taddeo’s silence answered first.
She closed her eyes briefly. “There it is.”
“I did not agree.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
“You left yourself room to obey him.”
“I left the issue unresolved.”