Chapter 11 - Thirty DaysOn the first morning I controlled thirty-eight percent of the voting power of Moretti Capital, I wore sneakers.
This caused more distress than expected.
At eight thirty, I entered the boardroom beside Luca.
Twelve directors were waiting.
Nine men.
Three women.
Every person at the table had already read the emergency trust notification.
Every person knew that for the next thirty days, a former arts education executive with no corporate finance experience held the largest effective voting bloc in the company.
They looked delighted.
By delighted, I mean several appeared to be considering whether jumping through the forty-seventh-floor windows would be less painful than the meeting.
Luca pulled out a chair.
I sat.
He remained standing.
One director cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Moretti—”
“Bennett-Moretti.”
“Yes. Of course.”
He looked at Luca.
Not me.
I noticed.
“So what exactly is the operational plan?”
Luca opened his mouth.
I touched his wrist.
He stopped.
I answered.
“For the next thirty days, Luca continues running the company.”
Visible relief moved around the table.
“However,” I continued, “no executive-level financial record is restricted from the independent forensic team.”
The relief disappeared.
A man named Arthur Bell frowned.
“That is an extraordinary intrusion.”
“So is two hundred million dollars moving without the CEO’s knowledge.”
“That matter is being investigated.”
“By people who work for the people being investigated.”
Arthur’s mouth tightened.
I smiled.
“I spent fifteen years working with nonprofit boards. You aren't as different as you think.”
Luca looked suspiciously amused.
I continued.
“All records connected to Belladonna, Carlo Moretti, Richard Sinclair, Adrian Vale, Harbor Education Trust, and the six acquisitions identified in Vault 317 are preserved.”
Another director spoke.
“This could expose the company to litigation.”
“Yes.”
“Reputational damage.”
“Yes.”
“Shareholder panic.”
“Possibly.”
He stared.
“You seem remarkably comfortable with that.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“I am simply more uncomfortable with hiding evidence because it may be expensive.”
Silence.
Across the table, Arthur Bell looked at me strangely.
Not angry.
Afraid.
I noticed.
So did Luca.
We said nothing.
After the meeting, Luca followed me into his office.
“Bell.”
“Yes.”
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
He smiled faintly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Luca.”
“You noticed before I did.”
“I have eyes.”
“You have very good eyes.”
“Are you flirting during a corporate crisis?”
“Yes.”
“Unprofessional.”
“You married the CEO.”
“Twice.”
“Excellent judgment.”
I laughed.
Then Finn entered.
The humor vanished.
“We found the access source for the safe.”
“Bell?” I asked.
Finn looked surprised.
“No.”
I felt almost disappointed.
“Who?”
“Your executive assistant.”
Luca went still.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Daniel Mercer had worked for Luca for six years.
Quiet.
Efficient.
Married.
Two children.
I had known him since before Sofia was born.
“Why?” Luca asked.
“He says he was blackmailed.”
“By whom?”
“He won't say.”
“Where is he?”
“Conference room four.”
We found Daniel sitting alone.
He looked terrible.
Luca closed the door.
“Tell me.”
Daniel looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“That is not useful.”
“I know.”
“Who gave you the fingerprint copy?”
Daniel swallowed.
“I made it.”
Luca’s expression hardened.
“How?”
“A glass from your office.”
My skin crawled.
“The code?”
“I didn't need it.”
“Who taught you to bypass it?”
Silence.
Luca placed both hands on the table.
“Daniel.”
“They had photographs.”
“Of what?”
“My son.”
I frowned.
“What kind of photographs?”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“Drugs.”
Luca’s anger shifted.
Daniel continued.
“He's nineteen. He made stupid decisions. They had video of him buying pills.”
“Who?”
“I never met them.”
“Messages?”
“Encrypted.”
“Money?”
“None.”
“What did they ask you to do?”
“Copy your fingerprint. Disable cameras. Take the token.”
“Anything else?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Put something in your desk.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“A file.”
“Where?”
“Bottom drawer.”
Finn checked.
A folder.
Inside were financial statements showing Luca authorizing Belladonna transactions.
Perfect signatures.
Internal codes.
Everything.
Evidence.
Too much evidence.
I stared.
“They were going to frame you.”
Luca looked at the documents.
The symmetry was horrifying.
Years earlier, photographs had been used to make me look unfaithful.
Now documents had been created to make Luca look corrupt.
Same strategy.
Create evidence.
Let suspicion do the rest.
“Who knew about our history?” I asked.
Daniel looked confused.
“What?”
“Whoever did this understands Luca’s greatest vulnerability.”
Finn nodded slowly.
“They expected the board to see these documents.”
“And remove him,” I said.
Luca looked toward me.
“Belladonna triggers.”
“The trust activates.”
“You take control.”
“And then?”
Silence.
I understood.
“They expect me to turn against you.”
Luca’s face went still.
The old version of us would have been perfect for this plan.
A suspicious husband.
A wounded wife.
Evidence placed carefully between them.
Someone had studied our first destruction and attempted to recreate it.
Only this time, they had made one mistake.
We were no longer those people.
I picked up the forged authorization.
“Did you sign this?”
“No,” Luca said.
“You're sure?”
His eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I tore it in half.
Daniel stared.
Luca almost smiled.
“That is technically evidence.”
Finn sighed.
“I was going to mention that.”
“Fine.”
I placed the pieces carefully on the table.
“Preserve my dramatic gesture.”
Finn collected them.
Daniel began crying quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Luca looked at him.
“What your son did is not relevant to your employment.”
Daniel lifted his head.
“But what you did is.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“You're suspended pending investigation.”
He nodded.
“We will protect your son from whoever is blackmailing you.”
Daniel stared.
“Why?”
“Because your son did not steal my token.”
“But I did.”
“Yes.”
Luca’s voice remained calm.
“And you will answer for that without me allowing someone else to use your child as leverage.”
I watched him.
Carlo Moretti would not have done that.
Richard Sinclair probably would not have done that.
Luca had spent his entire life being taught that vulnerability was a weapon.
Now he was refusing to use one.
After Daniel left, Finn’s phone rang.
He answered.
Then looked at us.
“We found Vanessa.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Penn Station.”
“Is she leaving?”
“She was trying to.”
“Trying?”
“Someone attacked her.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Hospital?”
“Mount Sinai.”
Luca looked at me.
I already knew.
“We're going.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I stood outside Vanessa Sinclair’s hospital room.
For three years, I had imagined never seeing her again.
That had been enough.
I had no fantasy of revenge.
No desire for an apology.
She belonged to a chapter of my life I had closed.
Now a detective opened the door.
Vanessa lay in bed.
Bruising along her cheek.
Bandage around one wrist.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Her eyes found Luca first.
Pain crossed her face.
Then she saw me.
“I suppose this is humiliating.”
I stepped inside.
“I didn't come to enjoy it.”
“No?”
“No.”
Luca remained near the door.
Vanessa looked at him.
“You still don't trust me.”
He answered carefully.
“I don't know whether I can.”
She nodded.
“Fair.”
That word surprised me.
The old Vanessa would have argued.
This woman looked tired of arguments.
I sat beside the bed.
“Why did you go to Switzerland?”
“To make Richard think I wanted the vault.”
“Why?”
“So he wouldn't realize Adrian had already told Evan where the real evidence was.”
“What real evidence?”
She looked at Luca.
“Your father’s medical records.”
Luca stiffened.
“Where?”
“Adrian kept copies.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed Richard poisoned Carlo.”
“And now?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“He was wrong.”
Silence.
“Who did?”
She looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“You were attacked.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“I didn't see his face.”
“What did he want?”
“My phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I recorded a conversation.”
“With?”
She looked toward the door.
Then at Luca.
“Arthur Bell.”
My heartbeat changed.
The director who had looked afraid.
“What did he say?”
Vanessa reached beneath her blanket.
The detective immediately stepped forward.
She slowly removed a small memory card.
“They took my phone.”
She held up the card.
“They didn't take this.”
Luca stared.
“What is on it?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“The reason Carlo Moretti died.”
No one moved.
Then she looked at me.
“And Isabella?”
“Yes?”
“The reason your father spent the last twelve years of his life afraid someone would come after your family.”
My skin went cold.
“My father?”
“He knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Harbor Education Trust was never about property.”
I stared.
“What was it about?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Money laundering.”
The room became silent.
“Whose money?”
She looked at Luca.
“Moretti money.”
Then at me.
“But not Carlo’s.”
“Whose?”
May you like
Vanessa’s answer came quietly.
“Arthur Bell’s.”
