"Your father had the code," Stone said slowly, working it through. "He hid it in a book."
"Not just any book." My voice sounded distant. "The Count of Monte Cristo. A story about betrayal and revenge."
"He knew," Quentin said quietly. "He suspected someone was using the account. That's why he wrote it down, hid it. He was documenting it."
"Or he was trying to tell me something." I sank into a chair. "He knew I loved that book. Knew I'd read it eventually, maybe even after he was gone. He was leaving me a clue."
"The meeting," Serenity said softly from the corner. Everyone turned to look at her. "In his notebook. 'F—9 p.m. Tuesday. Wine. Talk.' He was confronting them. About the money."
"And they had already planned to kill him," I whispered.
Forrest was still typing. "Okay, so we have the code. We know it was used to pay for the hit. But we still don't know which of the three suspects actually entered it."
"Because they all have access," Stone said. "Filomena, Dominic, Silvio. Any of them could have used it."
"So how do we prove who?" I asked, though part of me already knew. Had known since I found that slip of paper. Since Filomena had run Papa's security. Since she'd pushed so hard to blame Quentin.
"We make them use it again," Quentin said.
Everyone glanced his way.
"We set a trap. Create a situation where one of them has to access that account. Then we watch to see who enters the code."
"The wedding," I said slowly, pieces clicking into place. "Carlo's planning it. He could ask one of them to handle a payment. Something big enough to require the restricted account."
"How about the rehearsal dinner?" Stone suggested. "Big expense. Family obligation. Whoever Carlo asks would consider it an honor."
"And if they use that code..." Forrest grinned. "I can set up monitoring. Real-time alerts. The second someone processes a transaction with that authorization code, we'll know exactly who it is."
I stared at my phone, at the number my father had hidden for me to find. My throat tightened.
"Carlo should arrange it," Quentin said. "The rehearsal dinner. Carlo handles it as part of the wedding planning—"
"It's expected," I finished. "Natural."
"Can you set up the monitoring without the transaction happening yet?" Quentin asked Forrest.
"I can monitor the account starting now. The second anyone uses that authorization code for any transaction, Julia gets an alert." He was already pulling up screens. "I'll have it live within the hour."
I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over Carlo's name.
"If you tell him your suspicions, he might confront her immediately," Stone warned.
"Carlo's smarter than that." I met his gaze. "He's the Don now. He understands we need proof the family can't deny." I paused. "And he deserves to help catch his father's killer."
Quentin studied my face, then nodded. "We're all here if you need us."
I stepped into the hallway, took a breath, and dialed.
Carlo answered on the second ring. "Jules. Everything okay?"
"I figured it out," I said quietly. "I know how to prove who killed Papa."
Silence. Then: "I'm listening."
I explained it all. The code in the book. The authorization pattern Margaret had found. The trap we could set.
"You're already planning the rehearsal dinner, right?" I asked.
