“What is in my bag?” she demanded.
Luca nodded toward one of his men.
The man produced a pair of clean handkerchiefs from his pocket and offered them to Grace rather than touching the bag himself.
Grace looked at me.
I nodded.
Using the cloth, she opened the side pocket.
The cream-colored envelope appeared immediately.
Her face lost color.
“I have never seen this before.”
The blond man said, “That proves nothing.”
I lifted my camera.
“It proves you put it there.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
“And I photographed you doing it.”
Luca’s gaze stayed on him.
“Now tell her why.”
The man said nothing.
Grace carefully placed the envelope on a nearby cocktail table.
Nobody touched it.
“What is this?” she asked again.
Luca answered this time.
“A delivery.”
“For whom?”
“Not for you.”
“Then why put it in my bag?”
“Because you were supposed to leave with it.”
Grace stared at him.
Luca spoke with clipped precision now, all trace of the earlier confrontation gone.
“The men beside you have spent the last several months looking for people with exactly your profile.
Young.
Ambitious.
Intelligent.
Newly connected to legal institutions.
People who can plausibly carry documents between offices without attracting attention.”
The blond man scoffed.
“Listen to this.”
Luca ignored him.
“They flatter them.
Offer introductions.
Make them feel chosen.
Then something changes hands without their knowledge.”
Grace looked at the envelope.
“What kind of documents?”
“Financial records.
Corporate authorizations.
Copies of signatures.
Things people become very interested in when they appear in the possession of someone who should never have had them.”
Grace’s voice dropped.
“You’re saying they were setting me up.”
“I’m saying that if you had left this hotel with that envelope in your bag, three men would have been able to swear they saw you accept it.”
Her classmates went silent.
The blond man finally lost control.
“That is a lie.”
His voice carried across half the ballroom.
Heads turned.
Luca’s expression remained almost bored.
