Page 85 of The Hidden Heir

“It’s why I’m here, Luca,” she replies. “Maybe I’m betraying my father right now but given what I know he did to your brother, even if he won’t admit it, I can’t let him do worse to you or Valentina. You don’t deserve it. There’s been enough bloodshed between our families.”

“I wholeheartedly agree with that,” Victor chimes in. “Do you have the Mayfair address?”

She gives him a piece of paper. “Here. But please, be careful. Be discreet. Find out what’s happening before you do anything. Stake the place out, if you have to. I can’t help you in that regard. I can’t intervene there at all, otherwise, my father might suspect I’ve been talking to you.”

“And that would get you in hot water,” I conclude.

“That’s right. His barren daughter. What use am I to him if I’m not even loyal?” she scoffs. She lowers her gaze, a bitter smile testing her red lips.

“Caroline, you’re so much more than just that,” I reassure her. “And if your old man can’t see it, then it’s his loss. The fact that you’re here tells me you’re trying to regain that common ground, to keep the peace between us.”

“I’m trying; I really am.”

“But you should know something. Or maybe you already know it, and I’m just here to remind you. The day will soon come when you’ll have to choose between peace with us and peace with your father. Because Mauro isn’t looking for an amicable resolution here. He’s planning something.”

She nods once. “I just hope you can stop him before he does worse.”

“What did he tell you about the ballroom shooting?” Victor asks her.

“Nothing. He swears he had nothing to do with it. Every time I ask him, I get the same answer. He had no reason to shoot up that ballroom or those people.”

“Except he had every reason, because most of the people who were killed were voting in Luca’s favor at the next council,” he replies.

Caroline sighs heavily and looks troubled. Her eyes dart around the room, a dark realization settling across her face. “If he was behind it, then he tried to have Valentina killed too, didn’t he?”

“It looks like it,” I reply.

“Jesus.”

I watch Caroline as she struggles to come to grips with this realization and regain her composure. I almost feel sorry for her. “I’m so sorry, Luca. I’m so sorry for everything my father might’ve done to protect or to nurse his injured pride. This has gotten horribly out of hand.”

“Indeed it has, but we’ll get to the bottom of it,” I say. “You just need to keep your head up and go on with your life as if all is normal. Victor and I will look into the Mayfair issue in the meantime.”

“Will you at least tell Valentina I’m worried about her and hope that she’s okay?”

“I will; I promise,” I say.

Though I’m not sure whether she’ll be all that receptive to me. She’s angry and hurt, but I can’t stand to be away from her. I can only hope that what I do next will bring us closer and to a better conclusion.

Mayfair is mostly a residential neighborhood with century-old townhouses and sprawling back gardens. There are cameras on every street corner and a highly dedicated local police force. It’s the kind of neighborhood where kids can safely play out in the streets in the summer, and the nearby park is well lit and perfect for runners and families alike.

It’s about as posh and clean as a Chicago neighborhood has to offer in terms of high-rent residences, aside from the Gold Coast. It’s also the last place I imagined would harbor one of Mauro Mancuso’s illicit safe houses.

“It’s eerily quiet,” Victor mutters.

We’re sitting in my car, parked across the street from the address Caroline gave us, looking at a beautiful two-story home with a brick façade and white-framed windows. Flowers hang from pots on the sills, and marble angels decorate the pathway connecting the front porch to the gate and the sidewalk.

“There’s something lurking beneath the surface, though,” I tell him. “What do we know about the documented ownership of this place?”

“A Dario Amato bought it five years ago,” Victor says, going over the files on his phone. “Amato was a close associate of Mancuso’s. He used to run the real estate division for RDL Incorporated, a shell company opened by another Mancuso lieutenant, Daniel Angelli.”

“So, it’s definitely Mancuso’s,” I conclude.

He nods slowly. “Yes.”

“Look at the driveway,” I say.

“The place is supposed to be empty,” he says.