Chapter 5: What Marco Found
He called Marco from the far end of the corridor, his back to the ballroom doors.
"Talk to me."
"Rosa Reyes, née Moretti." Marco's voice was careful — the tone he used when the news was going to cost something.
"Born 1942 in Reggio Calabria.
Emigrated to the United States in 1971.
Settled in New Jersey.
Married a man named Daniel Reyes in 1973.
One daughter — Elena, born 1975."
"Elena Reyes."
"Yes.
Elena never married.
One daughter — Clara, born 2001.
Elena Reyes d*ed in 2024.
Ovarian cancer."
Vincent closed his eyes for a moment.
"And Rosa?"
"Rosa d*ed in 2004.
But here's where it gets complicated." A pause.
"Rosa and your mother, Lucia — they were in contact right up until Lucia's passing in 2010.
Regular letters.
Some wire transfers."
"My mother sent money to Rosa?"
"Starting in 1998.
Every year, without fail.
The amounts weren't large — a few thousand each time — but they were consistent.
The last transfer went out six weeks before Lucia d*ed."
Vincent said nothing.
"There's more," Marco said.
"In 2009, your mother updated her will.
There was a codicil — a separate instruction — naming Elena Reyes as a secondary beneficiary.
Not for the main estate.
For a specific asset."
"Which asset?"
"The Calabrian property.
The old house in Brancaleone.
The one your grandfather built."
The corridor felt smaller suddenly.
"That codicil," Vincent said slowly.
"I never saw it."
"No.
Because it was removed." Marco's voice stayed flat, professional.
"Someone filed an amendment in late 2010, two months after Lucia d*ed, removing Elena Reyes from the codicil entirely.
The amendment was notarized and filed correctly.
But the signature on the authorization—" He stopped.
"Say it."
"It doesn't match your mother's other signatures from that period.
The notary who certified it retired the following year and d*ed in 2013.
There's no one left to contest the certification."
Vincent's hand tightened around the phone.
"Who filed the amendment?"
"It was submitted through Castellano Legal Associates," Marco said.
"Vivian's father's firm."
The music from the ballroom was faint but steady — something bright and celebratory that had no business existing in the same building as this conversation.
"How long have you known about the Calabrian property?" Vincent asked.
"I didn't know about the codicil until tonight.
But the property itself — it's been in a holding dispute for eleven years.
There's a land development application attached to it.
Filed eight months ago."
"By whom?"
"A shell company.
But the registered agent traces back to Castellano Holdings."
Vincent stood very still.
Eight months ago.
The same month Clara Reyes had started working through the staffing agency.
"Marco," he said.
"The staffing agency.
Premiere Event Staff.
Find out who owns it."
A pause.
Keyboard sounds.
"Registered to a holding trust," Marco said.
"Give me a minute." More sounds.
"The trust is administered by — Vincent, the trust is administered by Castellano Holdings."
The ballroom doors opened again at the far end of the corridor.
Vivian stepped through, alone this time, her expression reset to something pleasant and patient.
She stopped when she saw his face.
Whatever she read there made her take one small step back.
"Who else knows about this?" Vincent said into the phone, quietly enough that she couldn't hear.
"Just me," Marco said.
"What do you want to do?"
Vincent looked at Vivian across the length of the corridor.
She was watching him with the careful stillness of someone who has spent a long time learning how to wait.
"Get me the original codicil," he said.
"And the amendment.
Both.
Tonight."
He hung up.
May you like
"Good news?" Vivian asked, her voice light.
"Come and find out," he said, and walked back toward the sitting room where Clara was waiting.
