Marco held the can at arm's length, the false bottom already pried open with his thumbnail.

He set it on the garden table without a word and stepped back.

Valentina looked down.

A drive.

Small, black, no larger than her thumbnail.

Wrapped in a thin layer of plastic sealed with wax.

She didn't touch it yet.

"How many?" she said.

"Three," Marco said.

"Same modification.

Same seal.

The rest are normal."

She looked at the cooler.

Fourteen cans.

Three of them carrying something that had no business being at a garden luncheon.

She turned to Gerald.

He was still on the ground, one hand pressed to his ribs where the cabinet had caught him.

His jacket was torn at the shoulder.

But his eyes — his eyes were doing something she recognized.

He was calculating.

Even now.

Even flat on his back in front of every capo she employed, he was still working the room.

"Gerald," she said.

"You have one opportunity.

Tell me what's on these drives."

"I want a lawyer."

"You're not under arrest." She crouched down to his level.

"You're a guest at my home.

My daughter's home.

The child you just raised a belt over." She let that sit for a moment.

"So I'm not asking as a legal matter.

I'm asking as the woman who can decide what happens to you in the next ten minutes."

Gerald's jaw tightened.

"You don't know what you're getting into."

"Then help me understand."

He said nothing.

She stood.

"Marco.

Take him inside.

The east room.

Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, no phone." She looked at Evelyn, who had pulled herself free of the broken lattice and was standing with her arms crossed, a thin cut along her forearm from the wood.

"Her too."

Evelyn's chin came up.

"You can't seriously think—"

"I think you told me you were protecting me." Valentina picked up the drive between two fingers.

"From a soda can.

At my own luncheon.

That you organized." She tilted her head slightly.

"So yes.

Her too."

Two capos moved to Evelyn's sides.

She didn't fight them.

But as they walked her past Valentina, she said, quietly enough that only Valentina could hear:

"The drives aren't the problem.

What's on them is already in motion."

Valentina didn't react.

She waited until Evelyn was through the garden door before she let herself look at the drive again.

Already in motion.

She called across the lawn to her head of security.

"Dante.

Get me someone who can read this without connecting it to any network I own."

"I have a man."

"How fast?"

"Two hours."

She looked at Lily, who had been carried to the far end of the garden by her nanny and was now sitting in the shade with a juice box, seemingly unbothered, pulling petals off a flower one by one.

Three years old.

Thirsty.

Reached for a drink.

And somehow, without knowing it, her daughter had just pulled a thread that unraveled something Valentina hadn't known was there.

"One hour," she said.

"Tell him one hour."

Dante nodded and walked away with his phone already at his ear.

The garden was quiet now.

The capos had spread out along the perimeter without being told.

The luncheon table still held half-eaten plates, overturned glasses, a centerpiece of white roses that had somehow survived the whole thing undisturbed.

Valentina set the drive on the table beside the roses.

She looked at the other two, still sitting in their opened cans.

Three drives.

One estate.

One plan already in motion.

She needed to know what was on them before she made a single move — because if Evelyn was telling the truth, the wrong move would cost her more than the luncheon.

Marco appeared at the garden door.

"Gerald's asking for water."

"No."

"He says he'll talk if you give him water."

Valentina looked at the drive.

Then at the door.

Then back at the drive.

"Tell him I'll give him water when he tells me who sent him."

Marco disappeared.

Ten seconds later, he was back.

"He says to ask Dante who recommended the catering company."

The roses didn't move.

The garden stayed still.

Valentina looked at the back of Dante's head, thirty feet away, phone still pressed to his ear.

Her own head of security.

She hadn't asked him yet.

And Gerald already knew the answer would matter.