Chapter 3 - THE DRAWING IN THE DESK
The crystal chandeliers seemed to dim as the weight of Leonard’s words settled over the room.
Fifty-one percent.
Control.
Vanessa’s face turned an ashen shade of gray. The prenuptial agreement she had aggressively negotiated for the past six months was tied directly to the estate and the company’s controlling shares.
"He's lying," Vanessa said, her voice rising in panic. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Leonard. "He's senile. Adrian, you cannot listen to this."
Adrian ignored her. He didn't look angry. He looked entirely hollowed out.
He reached across the white tablecloth and picked up the tarnished silver key. It looked heavy in his palm.
"Excuse us," Adrian said to the room of silent, staring guests.
He stood up and walked toward the grand double doors of the dining room. He didn't check to see if I was following. He knew I would.
I picked up the cropped photograph and hurried after him. Leonard stumbled out of his chair, chasing us down the hallway, with Vanessa close behind, her heels clicking frantically on the marble floor.
We walked in silence to the west wing of the estate, stopping in front of Dominic’s old study.
The heavy oak door hadn't been changed since 1986. Adrian opened it and flicked on the lamps. The room smelled of old leather and aged scotch.
Behind the massive mahogany desk was a lower drawer with an antique brass lock. Adrian had kept it as a decorative piece, assuming the key had been lost decades ago.
Adrian knelt behind his father’s desk.
He slid the silver key into the lock. It turned with a heavy, protesting clack.
He pulled the drawer open.
Inside sat a single, red leather-bound ledger.
Adrian lifted it out and set it on the desk. He opened the cover. The pages were yellowed, the ink faded, but Dominic’s sharp, aggressive handwriting was unmistakable.
Inside the front cover was a folded piece of heavy parchment.
Adrian carefully unfolded it.
It was the missing Schedule B.
I watched Adrian’s eyes scan the legal text. I watched his chest stop moving as he read the signatures at the bottom. Dominic Moretti. Julian Rossi. And Leonard Voss as the witness.
"It’s real," Adrian whispered. "My father held forty-nine percent in trust. He was just the custodian. The company... the house... it legally belongs to the Rossi family."
Vanessa snatched the document from his hand, her eyes darting over the legal jargon.
"This was signed forty years ago!" she hissed, trying to tear the parchment.
Adrian caught her wrist, his grip like a vice. He gently took the document back. "Don't ever touch my father's papers again."
Vanessa backed away, her chest heaving. "Adrian, if the board sees this, they will freeze your assets. You will be ruined."
"I don't care about the board right now," Adrian said coldly. He turned to Leonard.
Answer one: The missing schedule proved Dominic was legally bound to return the empire to Julian’s family.
Open two: If Dominic owed Julian everything, why did he let Julian rot in prison, and where was the Rossi heir now?
"Julian died in prison twenty years ago," Adrian said, his voice deadly calm. "He had a son. David. Where is David Rossi?"
Leonard wiped his face with a trembling hand. "Adrian, please..."
"Where is he, Leonard?!" Adrian roared, slamming his hand onto the desk.
I jumped. I hadn't seen Adrian lose his temper like that since he was a child.
Leonard flinched, shrinking back against the leather sofa.
"You already know him," Leonard confessed, his voice breaking. "Dominic made sure the boy was watched over. He brought him into the fold when he was old enough."
Adrian froze.
I looked down at the red ledger on the desk. Something was tucked between the middle pages. I reached out and carefully pulled it free.
It was a piece of folded construction paper. A child’s drawing in blue crayon. It depicted two men standing outside a brick building.
At the bottom, it was signed: For Uncle Dominic, from David.
Adrian stared at the drawing. Recognition hit him like a physical blow.
"David," Adrian breathed. "My head of security. David is Julian’s son."
David had been by Adrian’s side for ten years. He had taken a bullet for Adrian during a warehouse dispute three years ago. David lived in the small groundskeeper’s cottage at the edge of the estate with his seven-year-old daughter.
Adrian looked at me, a profound, sickening horror in his eyes. "David has spent a decade taking orders from the man who stole his entire life."
Suddenly, Vanessa’s phone began to vibrate violently against the desk.
She snatched it up, looking at the caller ID. Her face went completely pale.
"It's the hospital," Vanessa whispered.
Adrian snatched the phone from her hand and put it on speaker. "This is Adrian Moretti."
"Mr. Moretti," a frantic voice echoed through the speaker. "This is St. Jude’s emergency room. You are listed as the emergency contact for David Rossi."
Adrian’s blood ran cold. "What happened?"
"He was in a severe car accident on the interstate twenty minutes ago. His vehicle was forced off the road."
"Is he alive?" Adrian demanded.
"Barely," the nurse said. "But sir... he wasn't alone in the car. His daughter, Lily, was in the back seat."
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The room spun.
I looked at Vanessa. She wasn't looking at the phone. She was looking at her own trembling hands, and a terrible, damning realization washed over me.
