Chapter 7 - The Locked Executive Floor.
Gabriel read Camille’s message twice before handing the phone to Marco.
Marco’s expression changed immediately.
“Could mean Harold knows Thomas made copies.”
“Or he knows we found them.”
“How?”
Gabriel looked toward the security wall.
“Someone is talking.”
Marco shook his head.
“Only six people know about the drive.”
“You.”
“Me.”
“Elena.”
“Evelyn.”
“Rosa knows we found something, not what.”
“And Camille knows we have evidence, but you specifically told her not to mention the drive.”
Gabriel’s mouth tightened.
“Which means either she ignored me or someone else already knew.”
Marco pulled up Whitaker Tower’s public building information.
“Private executive security.”
“Separate elevators.”
“Garage entrance.”
“No police incident reported.”
Gabriel reached for his coat.
“You’re not walking into Harold’s office with half the city watching.”
“Why not?”
“Because he would love a photograph of Gabriel Moretti storming Whitaker Tower after ending his engagement.”
Gabriel stopped.
Marco was right.
Anger made poor strategy when your opponent owned newspapers, donors, and enough lawyers to turn a hallway argument into a national headline.
“Call Camille.”
“Already tried.”
“Her assistant?”
“Not answering.”
“Building security?”
“They say the executive floor is closed for a private family meeting.”
Gabriel looked at the clock.
“Get Reeves.”
Marco frowned.
“On what grounds?”
“A witness in an active investigation sent a message indicating knowledge of evidence and then became unreachable after cameras were disabled.”
Marco nodded.
“That is better than ‘I have a bad feeling.’”
Gabriel looked at him.
“I have both.”
Sergeant Reeves arrived at Whitaker Tower twenty minutes later with a detective from the financial crimes unit.
Gabriel remained across the street in a parked car, hating every second of it.
Elena sat beside him.
He had told her to stay at the estate.
She had replied that people who were already being framed did not become safer by obeying vague instructions.
Gabriel had decided not to argue.
“You care what happens to her,” Elena said.
Gabriel kept his eyes on the tower entrance.
“I do not want anyone harmed.”
“That was a politician’s answer.”
“I am not a politician.”
“You sound like one when you are avoiding a question.”
Gabriel looked at her.
Elena’s bandaged arm rested across her lap.
“You hate her,” he said.
“I hate what she did.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked at the building.
“I do not want her trapped with a father who might be worse.”
Gabriel studied her face.
“After everything she did to you?”
Elena shrugged carefully.
“If I only care about people who are kind to me, then I am not actually kind.”
Gabriel looked away.
“That sounds like your father.”
“You heard eleven minutes of him.”
“It was enough.”
Elena’s eyes softened.
“He would have liked that.”
Across the street, two police vehicles pulled into the private garage.
Minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Then twenty-five.
Marco’s phone finally rang.
He listened, said very little, and ended the call.
“Well?” Gabriel asked.
“Camille is fine.”
Gabriel’s shoulders loosened by a fraction.
“Where?”
“Executive conference room.”
“Phone?”
“Harold’s security chief collected all devices for a confidential meeting.”
Elena frowned.
“And the cameras?”
“They claim scheduled maintenance.”
Marco’s tone made clear what he thought of that.
“Reeves asked Camille whether she wanted to leave.”
“And?”
“She said yes.”
Five minutes later, Camille emerged from the tower with Reeves.
Her face was pale.
She carried no purse.
No coat.
Her hands were empty.
Gabriel got out of the car.
Camille crossed the street without looking at traffic until Reeves caught her elbow.
“What happened?” Gabriel asked.
Camille looked at Elena first.
Something like shame moved across her face.
Then she looked at Gabriel.
“My father knows Thomas Brooks made a recording.”
Gabriel went still.
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“He knew before I said Thomas’s name.”
Marco swore under his breath.
Camille wrapped her arms around herself.
“I asked him whether he remembered an accountant who worked for Moretti Imports six years ago.”
“He said, ‘If this is about Brooks’s recording, Victor handled it.’”
Gabriel felt a cold clarity settle over him.
Harold had revealed too much because he believed his daughter already knew.
“What happened after that?”
“I asked what Victor handled.”
“My father told everyone to leave the conference room.”
“He took my phone.”
“He asked who had spoken to me.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
Camille looked almost insulted by the question.
Then she remembered where they were and why.
“I told him I had heard the name from you.”
“That part was true.”
“What did he say?”
Camille swallowed.
“He said Thomas Brooks was a confused employee who tried to extort both families.”
Elena stepped forward.
“My father never extorted anyone.”
Camille looked at her.
“I know.”
Elena blinked.
Camille continued.
“I know now.”
The apology did not come.
Not yet.
But the certainty did.
Gabriel turned back to Camille.
“Why did you text me?”
“My father left the room to call Victor.”
“I had my phone for maybe thirty seconds before his security chief came back.”
“What did you hear?”
Camille’s face tightened.
“My father said, ‘If Moretti has the drive, the old arrangement is dead.’”
Gabriel and Marco exchanged a look.
“What old arrangement?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Yes.”
Camille lowered her voice.
“He said, ‘Call Anthony before Gabriel gets to him.’”
Gabriel froze.
Elena looked between the men.
“Who is Anthony?”
Marco answered.
“Gabriel’s uncle.”
The city noise seemed to fade.
Anthony Moretti was Vincent’s younger brother.
He sat on three Moretti boards.
He had signed Gabriel’s first corporate appointment.
He had given a toast at the engagement party praising the Whitakers as the family Morettis had finally learned to trust.
Gabriel felt an old memory sharpen.
Anthony standing beside Vincent at Thomas Brooks’s funeral reception.
Anthony telling Gabriel the accounting dispute had been resolved.
Anthony recommending Victor Lang for a regulatory matter two years later.
The inside connection suddenly had a name.
Marco looked at Gabriel.
“You want me to pick him up?”
“No.”
Elena stared at him.
“No?”
Gabriel’s voice stayed calm.
“If Anthony is involved, grabbing him tells him what we know.”
“What if he runs?” Camille asked.
“Then he tells us he is guilty.”
Marco nodded slowly.
“And if he stays?”
“We invite him to dinner.”
Elena gave Gabriel a disbelieving look.
“You solve family corruption with dinner?”
“In my family, dinner has always been dangerous.”
Camille almost laughed despite herself.
The moment vanished when Reeves approached.
“Miss Whitaker, I need a formal statement about what happened upstairs.”
Camille nodded.
Gabriel looked at Reeves.
“Do you need her at the station?”
“For an hour.”
“I’ll go,” Camille said.
Gabriel did not object.
Before she followed Reeves, she stopped in front of Elena.
The two women stood three feet apart.
Camille’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
Elena waited.
Camille looked at the bandage on her arm.
“I am sorry.”
Elena’s expression did not change.
Camille continued.
“I know that does not fix it.”
“No.”
“I know saying I was angry is not an excuse.”
“No.”
Camille swallowed.
“I was cruel because I thought cruelty meant no one could embarrass me first.”
Elena’s eyes remained steady.
“That sounds exhausting.”
Camille gave a small, surprised breath.
“It is.”
Elena nodded toward Reeves.
“Go tell the truth.”
Camille looked at her for another second.
Then she left.
Gabriel watched her walk toward the police car.
“She apologized,” he said.
Elena looked at him.
“Do not get excited.”
“I am not.”
“She still has about six months of basic decency to catch up on.”
Marco coughed to hide a laugh.
Gabriel looked at Elena.
“You are enjoying this.”
“Very slightly.”
For the first time since the tea incident, Gabriel smiled.
It disappeared when his phone rang.
Anthony Moretti’s name appeared on the screen.
Gabriel answered.
“Uncle.”
Anthony’s familiar warm voice filled the line.
“Gabriel, I heard there was some unpleasantness with Camille.”
Gabriel looked at Marco.
“News travels.”
“It always does in this family.”
Anthony chuckled.
“I thought I might come by tonight.”
“Good.”
“I was hoping you would.”
There was a short pause.
Anthony’s voice became more careful.
“Everything all right?”
Gabriel looked up at Whitaker Tower.
“Bring your appetite.”
He ended the call.
Marco stared at him.
“That was cold.”
Gabriel put the phone away.
“No.”
“Cold is what happens if he lies to me at my father’s table.”
After Camille gave her statement, she asked Reeves for one favor.
She wanted the police to preserve the clothing she had worn during the tea incident.
Reeves looked confused.
"Why?"
"Because the bracelet clasp may have fibers from wherever it was before it was planted."
The sergeant raised an eyebrow.
"Who told you that?"
"Too many crime shows."
The answer was almost embarrassing.
The idea turned out to matter.
Laboratory examination later found fine gray carpet fibers inside the clasp.
The staff locker room had dark rubber flooring.
Camille's dressing room had cream wool carpet.
Victor Lang's temporary planning office at the estate had gray commercial carpet.
The evidence did not prove who carried the bracelet.
It did support the theory that it had passed through a room connected to Victor before appearing in Elena's locker.
When Gabriel heard, he called Camille.
"You helped."
She was quiet.
"Do not sound surprised."
"I am not."
"You are."
Gabriel did not argue.
Camille exhaled.
"I spent a long time believing being clever meant winning conversations."
"Maybe it can also mean noticing things that help someone else."
Gabriel looked toward the office where Elena was speaking with Lydia by phone for the first time.
"Maybe."
Neither of them mentioned the engagement.
May you like
For once, a conversation between them did not circle around what had been lost.
It focused on what could still be repaired.
