Chapter 3 - the burning letter
The black sedan tore through the wrought-iron gates of Dr. Vance’s Long Island property, its tires tearing up the gravel driveway. Black smoke billowed from the second-floor windows of the grand stone estate.
Victor stepped out of the vehicle before it fully stopped, drawing his heavy pistol from his shoulder holster. Flanked by Marco and three armed operatives, he kicked open the heavy oak front door and moved into the smoke-filled foyer.
"Clear the ground floor!" Victor ordered.
He pushed into the primary study. The room was engulfed in flames, books and curtains crackling as the fire spread. Sitting at a burning mahogany desk was an old man in a leather armchair, motionless.
Victor rushed forward. Dr. Vance was dead, a single gunshot wound through his right temple. In his stiff, gloved hand, the doctor held a thick manila envelope that was already catching fire at the bottom edge.
Victor grabbed the burning envelope, threw it onto the marble hearth, and stomped out the flames with his boot. He snatched the singed papers from inside.
Most of the document was reduced to black ash, but three lines of crisp black text remained visible at the top of the signed affidavit:
...the infant girl registered as Ellie Moretti on June 14th was not born to Clara Moretti. The true biological child of Clara Moretti was taken from the delivery room at 2:14 AM under the direction of...
The rest of the sentence was burned away.
Victor’s hand trembled slightly as he stared at the words. Clara had been his first wife, the love of his life, who died of an unexpected illness months after Ellie was born.
"Boss! We have to clear out!" Marco shouted, grabbing Victor’s arm as a flaming ceiling beam crashed down near the desk. "The structure is collapsing!"
Victor shoved the singed paper inside his tuxedo jacket and sprinted out of the burning house.
Ten minutes later, sitting in the back of the armored sedan as fire engines screamed past in the distance, Victor stared out the tinted window into the dark rain.
"Marco," Victor said quietly.
"Yes, Don Victor?"
"Celeste knew about this letter," Victor said, his voice dropping to a terrifying register. "She didn't just want to humiliate Ellie at the party. She wanted me to go looking for this document."
He pulled out his phone and dialed the security desk at his mansion.
The guard answered on the second ring: "Don Victor, security post four."
"Bring Celeste down to my private basement office," Victor commanded. "I'm coming home."
"Boss..." the guard hesitated, his voice trembling. "Mrs. Moretti isn't in her room."
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Victor froze. "What do you mean she isn't in her room?"
"The two guards outside her door were found unconscious two minutes ago," the guard reported in a panic. "The window lock was picked from the outside. She’s gone."
