The name was Thomas.
Thomas Carver, thirty-one, who had worked logistics for Luca’s organization for four years and had been, until this week, considered reliable. Marco laid it out with the precise unhappiness of someone reporting a failure they took personally — the phone records, the money transfer, the specific way the envelope had appeared under Aria’s door from the inside without triggering any of the building’s entry logs.
Luca listened to all of it without expression.
Aria was not in the room. Luca had waited until she had gone to bed before asking Marco for the full report — not to protect her exactly, but because what came next was not something she needed to witness. There was a version of him that existed in these conversations that he kept carefully away from her, not out o
