Iris checked the upload history.
“The instructions arrived less than an hour after your delivery schedules were finalized.”
That meant someone inside Matteo’s organization was providing the routes.
His green eyes hardened.
The danger was not only outside.
There was a traitor among his own people.
Matteo reached for his phone.
Iris closed the laptop halfway.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You do not get to disappear into another room and handle this in whatever way mafia bosses handle betrayal.”
A trace of dry amusement crossed his face.
“How do you imagine we handle it?”
“I don’t want enough information to answer that.”
“Fair.”
“We preserve the evidence.
We contact an attorney and the police.”
“The police have spent years trying to put my family in prison.”
“Then you should be very motivated to show them someone is using your restaurants to plan crimes.”
Britney pointed at Iris.
“She has a point.”
Matteo looked at the revision history again.
Turning it over would expose details about his businesses and the people who worked for him.
Keeping it private would leave Iris vulnerable and allow the client to continue.
His phone vibrated.
He read the message and set it face down.
“The man from your hallway had a photograph of your client in his pocket.”
Iris’s stomach tightened.
“Alive?” she asked.
Matteo’s expression changed slightly.
“The man is alive, Iris.”
She released a breath.
“Call your attorney.”
Matteo did.
An hour later, a criminal-defense attorney and a detective assigned to organized-crime cases sat in the restaurant office.
The detective distrusted Matteo openly.
Matteo returned the feeling without attempting to hide it.
Iris trusted neither of them completely.
That was why she kept the original files on her own encrypted drive and provided copies.
The detective studied the version history, the photographs, and the map.
“This can establish conspiracy and surveillance,” she said.
“But we still need the client connecting the design instructions to the crew outside.”
“He’ll call again,” Iris said.
As if summoned, her phone rang at 1:06 a.m.
The client’s name filled the screen.
The detective activated a recorder with Iris’s consent.
Matteo stood near the wall, silent.
Iris answered.
“Where is my file?” the client demanded.
“I found something in the design.”
A pause.
“What did you find?”
“The leaves match addresses.”
“You’re exhausted.
You’re imagining patterns.”
“Then you won’t mind if I remove them.”
