Chapter 6 - The Name She Chose to KeepKatarina finished the coffee before it became cold.
It was a small thing.
For almost 3 years, almost everything she ate or drank had been interrupted by something Chase wanted. A question. A demand. A search through her telephone. A complaint about the way she had dressed. A hand placed at the back of her neck while he explained why her understanding of an argument was incorrect.
She had become accustomed to abandoned cups.
That morning, she drank every last mouthful.
Then she washed the cup herself, placed it upside down on the drying rack, and stood in the kitchen with both hands resting against the edge of the sink.
The apartment remained quiet.
No one asked where she was going.
No one asked who had messaged her.
No one told her what she was permitted to wear.
Freedom, Katarina was discovering, did not arrive sounding like music.
Sometimes it sounded like a refrigerator humming in an empty kitchen.
Sometimes it was a locked door and the knowledge that no one else possessed the key.
Her telephone rang at 10:17.
Joanna.
Katarina stared at the screen for several seconds before answering.
“Hello?”
“Before you panic, nothing terrible happened.”
“That is a terrible way to begin a telephone call.”
“I know. I realized it immediately after I said it.”
Despite herself, Katarina smiled.
“What happened?”
Joanna became quieter.
“Compliance wants to speak to you.”
The smile disappeared.
“About what?”
“I do not know everything. Dolores told me there was an issue involving your employee credentials and some vendor authorizations. She specifically told me not to discuss details over the telephone.”
Katarina’s fingers tightened around the device.
“My credentials?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I do not know.”
“Joanna.”
“I genuinely do not know, Cat.”
Katarina walked slowly toward the window.
Far below, traffic crossed the intersection in neat streams. People entered buildings, exited restaurants, carried bags, lifted cups, and continued living lives that had no knowledge of hers.
“When?”
“They want to see you tomorrow morning.”
“Does Vittorio know?”
There was a pause.
“Mr. Servino knows everything before the rest of us know that something exists.”
Of course he did.
Katarina closed her eyes.
“I will be there.”
“Cat, you do not have to come in if you are not ready.”
“Yes,” Katarina said. “I do.”
She ended the call and remained beside the window.
Her first instinct was old.
Call Vittorio.
Her second instinct was older.
Hide.
The third was new.
Handle it herself.
Katarina showered, dressed in navy trousers and a soft cream blouse, and spent 20 minutes staring at the wardrobe Vittorio had arranged for her.
She deliberately selected short sleeves.
The bruises on her left arm were fading yellow around the edges. Two marks remained visible near her wrist.
She saw them in the mirror.
For once, she did not cover them.
At 11:02, the elevator chimed.
Katarina’s body reacted before her mind could intervene.
Her shoulders became rigid.
Her breathing shortened.
Then she looked at the locked door.
No one could enter.
She had to open it.
The realization slowly loosened something in her chest.
Katarina crossed the room and looked through the small security screen beside the door.
Vittorio.
He stood alone.
No Donato.
No Renzo.
His hands were visible.
Katarina opened the door.
Vittorio looked first at her face and then, briefly, at her exposed arms.
He noticed the bruises.
Naturally.
He did not comment.
“May I come in?”
The question was deliberate.
Katarina understood that.
“Yes.”
He entered only after she stepped aside.
The distinction should not have mattered as much as it did.
It mattered enormously.
“I heard from Joanna,” Katarina said.
“I know.”
“Compliance.”
“Yes.”
“My credentials were used.”
Vittorio removed his jacket and placed it across the chair.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“Three vendor approvals were submitted under your login during the last 6 months.”
Katarina stared at him.
“For what?”
“Bramwell Freight.”
“I know Bramwell. They handle regional deliveries.”
“They also moved money through 4 shell corporations that existed primarily on paper.”
Cold traveled through Katarina’s body.
“Chase.”
“We believe so.”
“Believe?”
Vittorio’s jaw tightened.
“His company was receiving consulting payments from 2 of Bramwell’s subsidiaries.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Vittorio.”
“Approximately 1.8 million dollars over 18 months.”
Katarina sat.
For several seconds she heard only the blood moving inside her ears.
“He knew my password.”
Vittorio said nothing.
“He knew the password to my telephone. Sometimes I worked from home. Sometimes I used the Servino remote portal.”
The memories arrived quickly now.
Chase leaning over the back of the couch.
Chase asking why the company required 2-factor authentication.
Chase casually borrowing her laptop because his battery had died.
Chase asking why an invoice approval required a director’s initials.
Questions she had interpreted as boredom.
Questions that now arranged themselves into something entirely different.
“He used me.”
The words emerged quietly.
Vittorio’s face became still.
“He attempted to.”
“No.”
Katarina looked at him.
“He did.”
There was anger inside her, but it did not feel like Chase’s anger.
His anger had always expanded until everyone else became smaller.
Hers did the opposite.
It made her sit straighter.
“He used my name.”
“Yes.”
“He used my job.”
“Yes.”
“He spent years telling me I was incompetent while he was stealing the things I had learned.”
Vittorio’s voice lowered.
“Katarina—”
“Do not fix it.”
He stopped.
The silence afterward was so complete that Katarina could hear a car horn 20 floors below.
She stood.
“I know what you can do. I know what you already did to Chase’s businesses. And I know you could probably make 3 electronic approvals disappear before lunch.”
“I could.”
“I do not want you to.”
Vittorio studied her.
“I want a formal investigation.”
“That may involve police.”
“I know.”
“It may involve federal investigators.”
“I know.”
“Your name will be part of the record.”
“I know.”
“They will ask about Chase. They may ask why he had access. They may ask questions you do not enjoy answering.”
Katarina swallowed.
“I know.”
Vittorio remained completely still.
She waited for the argument.
It never came.
“Then that is what we will do.”
The simplicity of his answer almost made her cry.
“That is all?”
“What else would there be?”
“You disagree.”
“I do.”
Katarina blinked.
Vittorio stepped closer but stopped outside the invisible distance she had not needed to identify aloud.
“If it were my decision, I would erase your name from the entire matter and deal with every person responsible before dinner.”
“I know.”
“But it is not my decision.”
The words settled deeply.
Katarina looked down at her bare arms.
“Thank you.”
“No.”
His voice became firmer.
“Do not thank a man for allowing you to make your own decisions. That is not a favor.”
Something inside her chest broke in an entirely different way than it had broken before.
Vittorio seemed to recognize it.
He opened his arms slightly.
He did not touch her.
Katarina crossed the space herself.
She rested her forehead against his chest.
His arms closed around her slowly.
“Tomorrow,” he said against her hair, “I will be in the building.”
“Not in the room.”
“No.”
“Not unless I ask.”
“No.”
She exhaled.
“Good.”
The next morning, Katarina entered Servino Holdings through the main doors at 8:23.
The lobby changed the moment people recognized her.
Not obviously.
Servino employees were too professionally trained for obvious staring.
But conversations became quieter.
A receptionist stopped halfway through lifting her coffee.
Two men near security looked at Katarina, then quickly at one another.
Someone knew.
Perhaps everyone knew.
Katarina nearly turned around.
Then she saw herself reflected in the black marble wall.
Cream blouse.
Dark trousers.
No long sleeves.
No carefully arranged scarf.
A fading bruise near the wrist.
She did not look like the woman who had entered the building the previous Monday apologizing for traffic.
She did not feel like her either.
Katarina continued walking.
Joanna met her outside the elevator and said nothing.
She simply extended a cup.
“Two sugars.”
Katarina accepted it.
“You are becoming Vittorio.”
Joanna’s eyebrows rose.
“First-name basis?”
“Drink your coffee.”
“Oh, this is already the best morning of my life.”
“Joanna.”
“I am finished.”
She was not finished.
Her expression promised hours of future commentary.
The compliance meeting took place on the 19th floor.
There were 4 people inside.
Servino Holdings’ general counsel.
The chief compliance officer.
A forensic accountant.
And a woman who introduced herself as Special Agent Mara Ellison.
Katarina stopped when she heard the title.
Agent Ellison was approximately 45, with dark hair cut at her jaw and the tired, observant eyes of someone who had spent much of her career listening to people lie.
“Ms. Aiello,” she said. “You are not under arrest, and at this stage, we do not consider you a suspect.”
“At this stage?”
The general counsel shifted uncomfortably.
Agent Ellison did not.
“I prefer accuracy to comfort.”
Katarina liked her immediately.
For the next 2 hours, they reconstructed 6 months of Katarina’s life.
Every remote login.
Every approval.
Every evening she had left her laptop unattended.
Every weekend Chase had insisted she bring work home instead of staying late at the office.
At 10:41, the forensic accountant placed a printed login report before her.
Three entries were highlighted.
All occurred after midnight.
Katarina stared at the dates.
She remembered the first.
Chase had brought her wine.
The second, she had been sick with a fever and had slept for almost 14 hours.
The third—
Her stomach contracted.
“That one.”
Agent Ellison leaned forward.
“What about it?”
“I was not home.”
“Where were you?”
“At Joanna’s.”
The room became quiet.
“Can anyone confirm?”
“Joanna can.”
The forensic accountant turned his laptop around.
“The login came from your apartment’s IP address.”
Katarina looked at the screen.
There it was.
Proof.
Something solid.
Something that could not be explained away by Chase’s smile or his soft voice or his ability to transform reality until Katarina apologized for remembering it incorrectly.
For 3 years, Chase had told her that her memory was unreliable.
Now a machine remembered for her.
Katarina’s hands began trembling.
Agent Ellison noticed.
“We can stop.”
“No.”
“Ms. Aiello—”
“No.”
Katarina placed both palms flat against the table.
“I spent almost 3 years stopping.”
Her voice cracked, but she continued.
“I want to finish.”
So they did.
At 12:16, Katarina signed a formal statement.
She read every page.
She corrected 2 dates.
She initialed every correction.
Then she wrote her full name at the bottom.
Katarina Maria Aiello.
Her hand remained above the signature for a second.
Chase had used her name as though it belonged to him.
This time, she used it herself.
When Katarina stepped into the hallway, Vittorio was standing at the far end beside a window.
He had kept his promise.
Not inside the room.
Not outside the door.
Far enough away that she had been required to walk toward him.
He saw her.
He did not move.
Katarina crossed the hallway.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“I signed.”
“Good.”
“I may have to testify.”
His eyes darkened.
“I know.”
“I am going to.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
She studied him.
“You hate this.”
“With considerable enthusiasm.”
Katarina almost laughed.
“But you are not stopping me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Vittorio looked down at her with the patient expression he reserved for questions whose answers he considered obvious.
“Because I want you alive, Katarina.”
His hand lifted and stopped just before touching her cheek.
She moved the final centimeter herself.
His palm settled gently against her skin.
“And a person who cannot choose is merely surviving.”
That afternoon, Katarina returned to her desk.
There were 46 unread emails.
Seven folders.
Three voicemail messages.
And, positioned precisely in the center of her desk, a package wrapped in plain brown paper.
No return address.
No courier label.
Only her name.
KATARINA AIELLO.
Joanna appeared behind her.
“That was not there 10 minutes ago.”
Katarina did not touch it.
Security arrived within 2 minutes.
Renzo arrived in 1.
The package contained no explosive, no electronics, and nothing dangerous.
It contained a small black sketchbook.
Katarina recognized it immediately.
Her breath stopped.
She had last seen it nearly 3 years earlier.
She had searched 4 boxes after moving into Chase’s apartment and eventually convinced herself she must have thrown it away.
Renzo wore gloves as he opened the cover.
The first page held a charcoal drawing of Katarina’s father stirring tomato sauce at a stove.
The second showed the old house where she had grown up.
The third was a self-portrait she had drawn at 22.
Katarina’s eyes filled.
“That is mine.”
Renzo turned another page.
A folded white note rested between the sheets.
He opened it.
Four words had been written in block letters.
YOU FORGOT SOMETHING, CAT.
Katarina stared at the sentence.
Behind her, the office elevator opened.
She knew who had arrived without turning.
For the first time since leaving Chase, fear entered the room again.
May you like
But it found Katarina standing.
And this time, she was not standing alone.
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