Salvatore's POV
The intercom buzzed.
"Marco to see you, Signor Esposito."
I checked my watch. Six hours. The man was efficient.
"Send him in."
Marco entered carrying a manila folder, thick with papers, and his expression was neutral, the face of a man who'd found something but wasn't sure what it meant yet.
"That was fast," Alessandro noted, looking up from his legal brief.
"Boss said eight hours. I don't like disappointing him." Marco walked to the desk and dropped the folder in front of me. "Valdina Greco. Complete background profile."
I opened the folder.
The first page was a photocopy of a birth certificate. Milan. Twenty-six years ago.
Marco pulled a chair closer and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"She exists," he began. "Born Valdina Maria Greco in Milan to a single mother, Maria Greco, who worked as a seamstress in a textile factory outside the city. Father unknown, left before she was born, apparently. Standard working-class story."
