Chapter 8 - When the Richest Man in Chicago Begged for Mercy
Richard Hargrove had spent thirty-five years building an empire that bore his name.
At sixty-four, he owned residential towers, commercial developments, waterfront properties, and interests in several luxury hotels. His photograph appeared regularly in business magazines beside words like visionary, philanthropist, and industry leader.
He had donated millions to charitable organizations.
His name decorated the entrance of a university library.
He also had a private office overlooking the Chicago River, where nobody entered without permission.
That morning, Victor entered without knocking.
Richard looked up from his desk.
"Have you lost your mind?"
Victor stopped.
His father turned his computer monitor toward him.
On the screen was Natalie's recording.
The slap.
The waitress.
Dante's entrance.
And Victor, looking suddenly much less important than he had imagined.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Richard demanded.
Victor dropped into a chair.
"It's being exaggerated."
Richard slammed his palm against the desk.
"You struck a female employee in front of a hundred witnesses!"
"She was disrespectful."
"She was serving water!"
Victor crossed his arms.
"You sound like the people online."
Richard stood.
"The problem isn't the internet."
"What, then?"
"The problem is her name."
Victor frowned.
"Bellamy?"
Richard went still.
"You knew her name?"
"Of course. It was on her uniform."
"And nobody told you to stay away from her?"
Victor looked confused.
"Why would they?"
Richard walked toward the windows.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he reached for his private telephone.
"Get Meredith Sloan here immediately."
Victor sat straighter.
"What does Meredith have to do with some waitress?"
His father's silence frightened him more than the shouting had.
Across the city, Rosa sat opposite Dante in the library of his Gold Coast residence.
Lucia Moretti's photograph lay between them.
In it, she looked about twenty-five.
She had dark, expressive eyes and the same stubborn chin as her brother.
"What happened to her?" Rosa asked.
Dante leaned back.
"She worked in financial compliance for one of the family companies. She started noticing transactions that didn't make sense."
"East Harbor?"
"Possibly. The land acquisitions began years before construction."
"What happened when she asked questions?"
"She argued with Carlo. Then with me."
Rosa's expression softened.
"With you?"
He nodded.
"Lucia thought I trusted our uncle too much. I thought she was being reckless with family affairs."
"What was your last conversation?"
Dante looked toward the window.
"I told her she was putting herself in danger over numbers on a spreadsheet."
He swallowed.
"She said those numbers represented real people."
Rosa waited.
"Three days later, her car was found near the Indiana state line. Her passport was gone. Carlo claimed she'd left the country voluntarily."
"Did you believe him?"
"For a while."
"And now?"
Dante looked at the photograph.
"Now I'm questioning everything."
Rosa reached across the table.
Her fingers rested lightly over his.
It was the smallest gesture.
Yet Dante looked at her as though it had rescued him from somewhere terribly lonely.
"Maybe she's still alive," Rosa whispered.
"I've spent eleven years hoping that."
"Then don't stop now."
At eleven that morning, Richard Hargrove received an unexpected visitor.
Dante Moretti entered his office carrying a thin folder.
Richard dismissed his assistant.
"What can I do for you, Dante?"
"Tell me about Thomas Bellamy."
Richard's face tightened.
"I don't remember every contractor who worked for me."
"This one died on your East Harbor project."
"A tragic accident."
Dante placed the folder on the desk.
"His engineering reports were altered."
Richard did not touch it.
"I suggest you speak with our legal department."
"I already have documents involving your legal department."
Dante slid a second photograph across the polished wood.
Richard looked down.
Thomas Bellamy.
Carlo Moretti.
Meredith Sloan.
And himself.
"Where did you find this?"
"Thomas kept it."
Richard's hands became very still.
Dante sat opposite him.
"I'm not here to threaten you. I'm here to tell you that Thomas's daughter has his records."
Richard slowly looked up.
"What records?"
"Enough to justify an independent investigation."
For the first time, the wealthy developer appeared genuinely frightened.
"Does Carlo know?"
Dante watched him.
"Why?"
Richard leaned forward.
"You don't understand what you're involving yourself in."
"Then explain it."
Richard looked toward the closed office door.
"East Harbor was never supposed to proceed under those conditions."
"Then why did it?"
"We had investors. Contracts. Loans. Delaying the project would have triggered enormous penalties."
"So you concealed defects?"
Richard looked away.
"I signed documents based on legal assurances."
"From Meredith?"
No answer.
Dante placed another sheet on the desk.
"And two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars transferred to a company owned by Meredith's daughter on the day Bellamy died?"
Richard's face drained.
"I didn't authorize that payment."
"Someone did."
Richard stood abruptly.
"Dante, listen to me. Whatever your uncle told you about the Hargroves, I was never the person controlling the entire arrangement."
"Who was?"
Richard rubbed his forehead.
For a moment, he looked older than his years.
Then he said something Dante had never expected to hear from him.
"Please. Keep Victor away from this."
Dante remained seated.
"Why?"
"Because he's an idiot, but he's my son."
"Your son assaulted Rosa."
"I know."
"And now someone is threatening her family."
Richard's breathing quickened.
"That wasn't me."
"Then give me a name."
Richard closed his eyes.
When he opened them, there was genuine fear in them.
"If I tell you what I know, I'll lose everything."
Dante rose.
"Thomas Bellamy lost his life. Rosa lost her father. My sister disappeared. I think you've misunderstood what matters here."
He turned toward the door.
"Wait!"
Dante stopped.
Richard walked around the desk.
His voice broke.
"Don't let them take my son."
"Who?"
Richard's gaze darted toward the security camera above the office entrance.
Then he whispered:
"Meredith."
Dante turned.
Richard grabbed his sleeve.
"She wasn't merely our attorney. She controlled the financing. She created the companies. She knew where every signature came from."
"And Carlo?"
"He introduced her to the investors."
"Why would she threaten your family?"
Richard's answer was almost inaudible.
"Because the Hargrove empire isn't entirely mine anymore."
Dante stared.
Richard released his sleeve.
"Meredith owns the debt behind half my properties. She can ruin us with a telephone call."
"Then cooperate with the investigation."
Richard hesitated.
"I need protection."
"From whom?"
The office door opened.
Meredith Sloan entered without waiting for permission.
She was an elegant woman in her late fifties, wearing a cream tailored suit and carrying a leather portfolio.
Her expression remained pleasant when she saw Dante.
"Mr. Moretti. What an unexpected reunion."
Richard stepped backward.
Meredith looked at the documents on his desk.
Then at his pale face.
"Oh, Richard."
She smiled.
"What have you told him?"
Richard swallowed.
"Nothing."
Dante watched her carefully.
"That's not entirely true."
Meredith's smile never changed.
"Then perhaps we should all have a conversation."
Her phone vibrated.
She glanced at it and turned the screen toward Dante.
A live photograph showed Margaret Bellamy sitting alone in the garden of her rehabilitation facility.
Meredith lowered her voice.
May you like
"First, however, I suggest you ask Rosa whether her mother has enjoyed her afternoon."
Dante was already reaching for his phone.
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