Piero's kidnapping: Marco was at the docks that morning (legitimate business), Luca was unreachable for two hours (red flag), Sofia knew Piero's schedule (she coordinated family calendars).
"They all have an opportunity," I said slowly. "All three of them could have done it."
Cesare studied the data, his expression unreadable. "But motive matters. Marco's gambling debts, Luca's dead brother, Sofia's lost daughter—those are all strong motives."
"So how do we narrow it down?" I asked.
Cesare's mind worked through the problem—I could see the calculations happening behind his eyes. "We need more than circumstantial evidence. We need proof. Communications, money trails, something concrete."
"What about Sofia?" I said suddenly. "Everyone's focusing on Marco and Luca because they're men. Because they fit the stereotype. But Sofia has the most access. She coordinates everything. Schedules, events, family movements."
Cesare considered this. "You think it's her?"
"I think we shouldn't dismiss her just because she's a woman. Viktor speaks messy Italian, he could easily say the wrong word without realizing. And the custody battle—losing her daughter—that's the kind of pain that makes people do terrible things."
I would know.
"You're right. We focus on all three equally."
"When will you confront them?"
"Not yet. Not until we have proof. If we accuse the wrong person, we tip off the real spy."
"And if we can't find proof before Monday?"
Cesare's jaw set. "Then we make a calculated risk. We feed false information and see who bites."
Around noon, the nausea returned. I excused myself to the bathroom, threw up quietly whilst gripping the cold porcelain.
When I emerged, Cesare was watching me with concern etched into every line of his face. "You're sick again."
"Just morning sickness. It's normal."
"This is the third time today. That's not normal."
I wanted to brush it off, but he was right. The stress, the lack of sleep, the constant fear—it was taking a toll.
"I need to see a doctor," I admitted. "Make sure the baby's okay."
Cesare immediately hit the call button. "We're getting you checked out. Now."
"Cesare, you're the one who just had surgery—"
"And you're carrying our child. That takes priority."
Dr. Reeves arranged for an OB consult. Within an hour, Dr. Patricia Lin arrived—middle-aged, warm, professional competence in a white coat.
"Mrs Monti. I understand you're about six weeks pregnant and experiencing concerning symptoms?"
Dr. Lin did a quick examination, asked questions about symptoms, medical history, the events of the past week.
"The nausea is normal for the first trimester. But combined with the stress you're under..." She looked concerned. "I'd like to do an ultrasound. Make sure everything's developing properly."
My heart pounded. "Is something wrong?"
"I just want to be thorough. Especially given what you've been through recently."
They brought in a portable ultrasound machine. I lay back, lifted my shirt. Cesare held my hand, both of us staring at the screen. Dr. Lin applied gel, moved the wand across my still-flat belly.
