Chapter 11 - THE CONTRACT THAT COULD DESTROY HIM
The Moretti Foundation gala was supposed to be canceled.
Luca refused.
“Why?”
I stood inside his office wearing the least-maid-like dress I owned because Margaret had informed me I would accompany the household staff downtown.
“Because canceling announces weakness.”
“Being robbed of thirty million dollars usually announces something.”
“It hasn’t left my control.”
“Yet.”
He adjusted his cuff.
“You worry too much.”
“You employ armed people indoors.”
“That is unrelated.”
The gala took place in Moretti Tower.
Eight hundred guests.
Politicians.
Executives.
Doctors.
Donors.
Journalists.
If anyone suspected Luca’s internal empire was collapsing, they hid it behind expensive champagne.
My job was technically coordination.
In reality, Luca wanted me nearby.
He never said that.
I never asked.
At nine, Matteo arrived.
Then Daniel.
Still no Adrian.
Matteo took Luca aside.
I watched them from across the ballroom.
Their conversation became tense.
Then Luca looked at me.
“Claire.”
I approached.
Matteo held a contract.
“We’re transferring temporary voting authority.”
“To whom?”
Matteo smiled.
“You truly are involved in everything now.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Luca handed me the contract.
“Read clause fourteen.”
I did.
It granted Matteo temporary authority over certain Moretti companies for seventy-two hours while Luca resolved a liquidity issue.
Standard enough.
Then I noticed clause fourteen-point-seven.
Voting authority included disposal rights.
Meaning Matteo could sell assets.
I looked up.
“This isn’t temporary control.”
Matteo’s smile faded.
“It is.”
“He can sell the companies.”
Daniel took the contract.
His face changed.
“That clause wasn’t in my draft.”
Luca looked at Matteo.
“Who prepared this?”
“My office.”
“Which person?”
Matteo didn’t answer quickly enough.
Luca tore the contract in half.
Around us, nobody seemed to notice.
Music continued.
People laughed.
But I felt the explosion.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Then I’ll live with it.”
“You won’t have a company left by Monday.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s reality.”
Matteo walked away.
I looked at Daniel.
“Could somebody add a clause without your firm noticing?”
“Not easily.”
“Who received the draft?”
“My assistant.”
“Name?”
“Rebecca Shaw.”
Frank checked.
Rebecca had left Chicago that afternoon.
Another disappearance.
Another trail.
Luca’s phone buzzed.
A message.
He showed me.
A photograph of Adrian.
Standing outside Union Station.
Timestamp: twenty minutes earlier.
Below it:
HE HAS WHAT YOU NEED.
I looked at Luca.
“Trap.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going anyway.”
“Yes.”
“I hate knowing you.”
“I’m beginning to understand why people leave.”
He walked toward the exit.
I followed.
“No.”
“What?”
“You stay here.”
“I’m involved.”
“That isn’t an argument.”
“It has worked until now.”
Frank joined us.
“I’ll take Claire.”
Luca stared at him.
Frank shrugged.
“She’ll follow us anyway.”
“I like Frank.”
“Everyone does.”
We left.
Union Station was crowded.
Adrian waited beside a closed coffee shop.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Exhausted.
He handed Luca a flash drive.
“I copied this before they locked me out.”
“Who?”
“Crown.”
“We know Crown.”
“No.”
Adrian shook his head.
“You know the company. You don’t understand it.”
He glanced around.
“My father didn’t create Crown to steal money for himself.”
“Then why?”
“To hide ownership.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
He looked at Luca.
“Your father was never sole owner of the Moretti empire.”
Luca froze.
“That’s impossible.”
“Peter Vale, Lorenzo Moretti, three investors, and one silent partner created a structure decades ago.”
“Who was the silent partner?”
Adrian swallowed.
“That’s what Marco discovered.”
He pointed toward the flash drive.
“The name is there.”
A group of police officers moved through the station.
Adrian stiffened.
“You called them?”
Luca shook his head.
Adrian looked panicked.
“They found me.”
“Who?”
“Crown.”
He turned to leave.
Luca grabbed his arm.
“Name.”
Adrian looked directly at me.
Then at Luca.
“Daniel Russo.”
I stopped breathing.
“Our attorney?” Luca said.
Adrian nodded.
“He was the silent partner.”
“That makes no sense. Daniel would have been twenty-five.”
“He inherited the stake from his father.”
Before Luca could respond, phones around us began vibrating.
Mine.
Frank’s.
Luca’s.
News alerts.
MORETTI HOLDINGS UNDER FEDERAL FINANCIAL INVESTIGATION.
The story had leaked.
Within seconds reporters began calling.
The gala above us descended into confusion.
Adrian looked at Luca.
“This is phase two.”
“What’s phase three?”
“Force you to sell.”
“To whom?”
“Crown.”
Then Adrian looked at me.
“And they already have the signature they need.”
My stomach turned.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
I laughed once.
“That’s impossible.”
Adrian pulled out his phone.
A document appeared.
CLAIRE BENNETT — AUTHORIZED FINANCIAL CONSULTANT.
My signature sat at the bottom.
Forged.
Attached to transfers totaling thirty million dollars.
I stared.
May you like
Somebody had transformed me from maid into financial conspirator overnight.
And by morning, every television station in Chicago would know my name.
