Chapter 10 - THIRTY MILLION DOLLARS MISSING
By eight in the morning, nobody cared that I was a maid.
I sat inside Luca’s office beside three accountants, two attorneys, Frank, Margaret, and a cybersecurity consultant whose name I forgot five seconds after he introduced himself.
Thirty million dollars had disappeared overnight.
Not transferred.
Not withdrawn.
Hidden.
Accounts frozen.
Permissions altered.
Documents corrupted.
Adrian’s credentials were everywhere.
Again, too obvious.
“Either he did this,” I said, “or someone really wants us to think he did.”
Daniel Russo looked at me.
Daniel was sixty-one and had the exhausted dignity of a man who billed by the hour even while sleeping.
“Miss Bennett, perhaps financial analysis should be left to professionals.”
“I agree.”
Everyone looked surprised.
I continued.
“So explain why the same person sophisticated enough to move thirty million dollars secretly would leave his username attached to every transaction.”
Daniel frowned.
Luca said, “Answer her.”
Daniel looked irritated.
“It could be arrogance.”
“Could be,” I said.
“Or Adrian knew he was leaving.”
“Could be.”
“Or—”
“Someone copied his credentials.”
The room quieted.
The cybersecurity consultant nodded.
“Possible.”
I looked at Luca.
“How many people could access Adrian’s device?”
“His assistant.”
“Driver?”
“Potentially.”
“Corporate IT?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel?”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
I smiled politely.
“Just counting.”
By noon, we discovered the money hadn’t actually left the Moretti companies.
It had been moved through dozens of subsidiaries until ownership became almost impossible to follow.
Almost.
The destination entity was called Crown Holdings.
I stared at the name.
The King.
Crown.
“Luca.”
He saw it too.
Sixteen years apart.
Same language.
Whoever stole from Lorenzo had built Crown Holdings.
And somebody had resurrected it.
Daniel examined old registration records.
“Crown Holdings was incorporated eighteen years ago.”
“Owner?” Luca asked.
“Trust.”
“Beneficiary?”
“Sealed.”
“Who created the trust?”
Daniel clicked.
Then stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
Luca walked around the desk.
Daniel turned the laptop.
The formation documents had been prepared by Russo & Pierce.
Daniel’s law firm.
Daniel stared.
“I didn’t do this.”
His signature appeared at the bottom.
Luca’s voice became ice.
“That says otherwise.”
“It’s forged.”
“You expect me to believe both Adrian and you were framed?”
“Yes.”
“That’s convenient.”
Daniel stood.
“Lorenzo ordered hundreds of entities created. I signed documents every week. Somebody could have copied my signature.”
I watched him.
Fear.
Anger.
But not surprise.
That bothered me.
“You knew Crown Holdings existed.”
Daniel looked at me.
“No.”
“You recognized the name.”
“I recognized the firm.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Before you saw the signature.”
He said nothing.
Luca noticed.
“Daniel.”
The older man closed his eyes.
Then sat.
“I promised your father.”
Luca’s patience disappeared.
“I am tired of dead people’s promises running my life.”
Daniel looked older suddenly.
“Your father discovered Crown Holdings after Marco died.”
The room went silent.
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
“Who owned it?”
“He never told me.”
“Why?”
“He was ashamed.”
Luca stepped closer.
“My father didn’t understand shame.”
“He did after Marco.”
Daniel swallowed.
“He believed his decisions created the situation that killed his son.”
“And you let me spend sixteen years searching.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
Luca laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps protecting me with lies.”
Daniel continued.
“Your father shut Crown down.”
“Apparently not.”
“Someone reopened it.”
“When?”
The consultant checked.
“Seven months ago.”
I remembered something.
“When did Luca announce he was selling the South Harbor businesses?”
Everyone looked at me.
Luca answered.
“Eight months ago.”
There it was.
One month after Luca decided to restructure the Moretti empire, Crown Holdings returned.
“Someone doesn’t want you selling,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because maybe your legitimate companies are hiding whatever they’ve been doing.”
Luca went still.
For years he had been feared for the Moretti organization.
But from everything I had seen, he had been moving away from his father’s world.
Selling questionable holdings.
Closing businesses.
Consolidating legitimate assets.
Somebody needed the old system to survive.
And Luca was threatening it.
The next clue came from Elena.
She examined the old gala photograph again.
Then whispered, “Wait.”
She pointed at a man standing behind Lorenzo Moretti.
Tall.
Gray-haired even then.
“Who is that?”
Luca looked.
“Peter Vale.”
Adrian’s father.
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Marco called him The King once.”
Every person in the room froze.
Adrian’s father.
Peter Vale had served as Lorenzo Moretti’s financial adviser for thirty-two years.
He had died five years earlier.
At least officially.
Daniel sat straighter.
“Peter couldn’t be doing this.”
“No,” I said.
“But somebody who inherited his secrets could.”
Adrian.
Everything pointed toward Adrian again.
Yet something still felt wrong.
That afternoon, Frank received a call from an unknown number.
He put it on speaker.
Adrian’s voice filled the room.
“Luca.”
“Where are you?”
“I didn’t take the money.”
“Come back and prove it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because the person who framed me has access to everyone around you.”
“Name him.”
Silence.
Then Adrian said:
“I finally know who The King is.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Who?”
A sound interrupted the line.
Adrian cursed.
Then whispered:
“Claire was right.”
My heart stopped.
“About what?” Luca demanded.
“Too obvious.”
The line crackled.
Then Adrian said something almost inaudible.
“The King isn’t one man.”
The call disconnected.
We stared at the phone.
One sentence changed the entire investigation.
We had spent weeks searching for a traitor.
May you like
Adrian was telling us there were several.
And before midnight, one of them would successfully place my name on the thirty million dollars.
