Chapter 30 #2
"Is it?" Quentin stood, pacing. "Think about it. Big Sal dies, I get blamed. Your family sends you to investigate. If you'd killed me, full war breaks out. Russos versus Vanettis. Both families tear each other apart. Who benefits?"
"Whoever wants us both gone," I whispered. "Whoever wants our territories, our businesses, our power."
"The Morettis," Stone said.
"Or someone else entirely." Forrest pulled up more files. "There are three other families operating in the region. Any of them would benefit from you two destroying each other."
My mind was racing. "But if that's true, then Filomena isn't the killer. She's—she's a pawn. Someone's feeding her false information, making her believe Quentin's guilty, using her to push the family toward war."
"Or," Stone countered, "she's the mastermind. She kills Big Sal, frames Quentin, manipulates the family into war, and emerges as the power behind whoever takes over."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to defend my aunt, the woman who'd raised me, taught me, loved me.
But I couldn't.
Because Stone's theory made horrible, perfect sense.
"We need proof," Quentin said. "Hard evidence. Not theories or suspicions. If we're accusing Filomena Russo of murdering her own brother and trying to start a war, we need to be absolutely certain."
"We have six days to find that proof."
"Then we'd better start digging." Forrest cracked his knuckles. "Give me access to your family's financial records, Julia. Shell companies, offshore accounts, anything you can get me. If money changed hands, I'll find it."
"I can get you some of it. But the really sensitive stuff—that's in my father's safe. Carlo has access now."
"Can you get to it?" Quentin asked.
"Maybe. Carlo trusts me. If I ask—" I hesitated. "It would be risky. If he suspects I'm investigating the family instead of you—"
"He'll pull you back," Stone finished. "Or worse."
"Yeah."
Quentin met my gaze. "We'll work with what we have. Forrest, see what you can find in public records. Serenity—"
"I can try to get a vision from something of Filomena's," Serenity offered. "If Julia has anything—a letter, a gift, something Filomena touched recently."
I thought back to the family meeting. "She hugged me goodbye. But I don't—wait." I pulled out my phone. "She texted me Saturday morning. Would that work?"
"Let me see it."
I handed over my phone. Serenity closed her eyes, her fingers wrapping around the device.
We waited.
Thirty seconds. A minute. Two minutes.
Finally, her eyes opened. "Nothing. I'm sorry. Text messages are too impersonal. I'd need something she held, wore, something with her energy attached."
"I have her rosary beads," I said suddenly. "She gave them to me when I was confirmed. They're at my apartment."
"We'll get them," Quentin said. "Anything else?"
I racked my brain. "There's a photo album. Old pictures of my father and Filomena when they were young. It's in the Russo family vault in New York. But—"
"But you can't exactly ask for it without raising suspicions," Stone finished.
"Right." Quentin glanced my way. His brows tightened, and his eyes held concern. “Let’s call it a night. It’s late and we’re beat.
Tomorrow we’ll meet at the office. Forrest starts digging into financial records.
Julia gets those rosary beads for Serenity.
Stone—” he hesitated. “I want you to take Julia to her apartment and do a security check. If you need to post a man—do it.”
My heart plummeted. He was sending me home? With Stone? “No. A guard won’t be necessary. I know how to take care of myself. My brother gave me a week. I’ll be fine.”
Quentin met my gaze. His eyes filled with regret. “He’ll take you home then.”
“Fine.”
"I’ll head out as well,” Forrest said. “Tomorrow I’ll go into the office early. See what I can find."
Stone took Serenity’s hand. “We’ll wait outside for Julia.” They filed out, leaving me alone with Quentin.
The silence felt heavier now. More intimate.
He was sending me home, but I couldn’t leave without trying to make things right between us. "Thank you. For trusting me. Or—or at least for trying to."
His expression turned pensive. "I don't know if I trust you yet, Julia. But I believe you're telling the truth about someone trying to kill us. And I believe—" He hesitated. "I believe you didn't want any of this."
"I didn't." My voice broke. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"I know." He took a step back. "Go home. Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
He ushered me outside into Stone and Serenity’s care, closing the door quietly behind him.
I hardly noticed the drive home. After getting out of the car, I hurried into my apartment. As I checked the windows and doors, dread rolled through my stomach. This was a dangerous game I was playing, but at least Quentin had given me a chance.
I got into bed, knowing it would be a long time before I fell asleep.
I had six days to find a killer, prove my family wrong, and stop a war.
Six days before Silvio came back to finish what I couldn't.
Six days to save both our lives.
Please let us be right about this. Please let us find the truth.
Because if we were wrong—if Filomena wasn't the killer, if we were chasing shadows while the real murderer laughed—
Then everything I'd sacrificed, everything I'd risked, would be for nothing.
And Quentin and I would both die knowing we'd failed.
I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.
Just the ticking clock in my head, counting down.
Six days.
Five days and twenty-three hours.
Five days and twenty-two hours.
Tick. Tick. Tick.