Chapter 9 - The Price of Being Useful
Gabriel's explanation began twenty-three years earlier.
Before he was Lorenzo's lawyer.
Before Lorenzo inherited Vitali Holdings.
Before Avery had ever heard the name Vitali outside newspaper headlines.
Gabriel's father, Thomas Russo, had served as attorney to Lorenzo's parents.
Elena Vitali discovered irregularities in several shipping partnerships.
Small discrepancies at first.
Duplicate invoices.
Construction materials ordered twice.
Vendor companies that existed only on paper.
She suspected Lorenzo's father.
According to Gabriel, she was wrong.
"Antonio was involved in many things he shouldn't have been," Gabriel said carefully. "But he wasn't responsible for those accounts."
Lorenzo stared at his mother's letter.
"Why didn't she tell him?"
"She tried."
"And?"
"Someone intercepted her records."
Gabriel slid an old photocopy across the table.
A warehouse manifest.
Second authorization:
Riccardo Duca.
Lorenzo whispered something in Italian Avery didn't understand.
Probably not a prayer.
"Your mother believed somebody inside the Vitali organization was cooperating with Duca interests," Gabriel continued.
"Riccardo."
"She suspected him. She never proved it."
"And the letter?"
"She instructed my father to hold it until Lorenzo discovered the irregularities himself."
Lorenzo's anger sharpened.
"Twenty-one years?"
"My father died before he could give it to you. I found it among his private files three years ago."
"Three years."
"Yes."
"You've had a letter from my dead mother for three years."
"Yes."
Lorenzo stood.
Avery thought he might hit him.
Instead, he walked to the window.
That seemed harder.
"Why?"
Gabriel's voice softened.
"Because the letter contained accusations against your father, Marco's father, Riccardo Duca, and others. With no proof, giving it to you could have destroyed relationships without accomplishing anything."
"It was my decision."
"Yes."
"You took it from me."
"Yes."
Avery recognized something in Gabriel's face.
Shame.
Not fear.
"Why call the gate Thursday?" she asked.
Gabriel turned.
"I received an anonymous text at 7:37."
He showed them.
MARY BOON'S PACKAGE IS ARRIVING. LET HER THROUGH PERSONALLY. ELENA'S LETTER WAS RIGHT.
Lorenzo turned from the window.
"You never told me."
"I didn't know who Mary Boon was."
"You could have asked."
"During the dinner where your relatives were trying to negotiate your marriage?"
Lorenzo didn't answer.
Gabriel continued.
"I thought the package might be connected to your mother's warning. I called security and told them to admit the courier."
"The seven-minute delay?" Avery asked.
"Not me."
"Then who?"
"Security had been told to hold all unscheduled arrivals."
"By whom?"
"Marco."
That moved him back to the center of suspicion.
Gabriel handed Lorenzo the letter.
He finally opened it.
Avery looked away.
Some grief deserved privacy.
Lorenzo read silently.
His face changed several times.
Anger.
Pain.
Recognition.
Then something Avery couldn't name.
He folded the letter.
"What did she say?" Avery asked gently.
He stared at the paper.
"That if I ever inherited the company, I should trust records more than relatives."
Avery's heart hurt for him.
"Smart woman."
"She also said power makes families confuse loyalty with obedience."
"Very smart woman."
Gabriel gathered his files.
"I should have shown you sooner."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Lorenzo looked at him.
"We will discuss that later."
Gabriel understood dismissal when he heard it.
After he left, Lorenzo remained in the kitchen.
Avery stood.
"I should go."
"Stay."
One word.
Not commanding this time.
Asking.
She sat.
He looked at his mother's handwriting again.
"I barely remember her voice."
Avery thought of the recorder.
"I have six years of voicemails from my mother I can't delete."
Lorenzo looked up.
"I don't listen to them often."
"Why?"
"Because for a few seconds she's alive again."
She swallowed.
"And then she isn't."
Lorenzo's eyes softened.
"Yes."
Something passed between them.
Grief recognized grief.
No public relations.
No contract.
No cameras.
Avery looked away first.
The next morning, Dana arrived at the estate.
Security searched her car.
Avery made no apology for that.
Dana entered looking smaller than usual.
"I canceled the interview."
"I heard."
"They're threatening to sue me."
"Gabriel says the contract is unenforceable because they misrepresented the program."
Dana nodded.
Silence.
Then:
"I'm sorry."
Avery folded her arms.
"I know."
"I didn't understand."
"You understood enough to hide it."
Dana flinched.
"I needed money."
"We all need money."
"I thought—"
"That I wouldn't mind?"
"No."
"That Lorenzo would fix it?"
Dana looked away.
There it was.
Avery sighed.
"All my life, you assume I'll help."
Dana's eyes filled.
"You always do."
"Exactly."
The sentence hurt both of them.
Avery continued.
"When you needed my car, I gave it."
"I know."
"When you needed rent, I covered it."
"I know."
"When your engagement ended, you slept in my room for four months."
Dana started crying.
"I know."
"And I did those things because I love you."
"I know."
"But somehow you turned my generosity into evidence that my needs matter less."
Dana shook her head.
"I didn't mean to."
"Meaning isn't magic."
The phrase sounded like something Lorenzo might say.
Avery almost smiled at the thought.
Dana wiped her face.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Stop selling things that aren't yours."
Dana looked confused.
"My car. My time. My story. My privacy."
Avery stepped closer.
"Ask."
Dana nodded.
For once, Avery didn't rescue her from discomfort.
That was new.
After Dana left, Lorenzo found Avery on the terrace.
"You all right?"
"No."
"Good answer."
She looked at him.
"You really are learning."
"Slowly."
Rain clouds hung over the river.
Avery leaned against the stone railing.
"Did you read the whole letter?"
"Yes."
"Anything useful?"
"One name."
She turned.
"Who?"
"Patrick Nolan."
The same port employee who had given Mary the envelope before dying.
Avery's pulse jumped.
"What did your mother say?"
"That Nolan could be trusted."
"Twenty-one years ago?"
"Yes."
"But my mother met him six years ago."
"Yes."
Avery stared.
That meant Nolan had known about the scheme for at least fifteen years before Mary stumbled into it.
"Why didn't he go to police?"
"Maybe he did."
"Agent Shaw?"
"I called. She's checking."
Lorenzo handed Avery a photocopy of one paragraph.
Elena's handwriting:
Patrick believes someone is using the old southern construction accounts to move money. He says the system relies on ordinary people carrying extraordinary things because no one watches the ordinary ones.
Avery read it twice.
Ordinary people.
Couriers.
Laundry deliveries.
Clerks.
Drivers.
People powerful men didn't notice.
Avery felt anger rise.
"So that's it."
"What?"
"We weren't random."
"Who?"
"My mother. Nolan. Me."
Lorenzo understood.
"They used people nobody would notice."
"Until one noticed too much."
Avery looked at him.
"My mother died because she was useful."
"We don't know that."
"I think we do."
Lorenzo didn't argue.
Later that afternoon Agent Shaw called.
Patrick Nolan had indeed contacted federal authorities.
Twice.
Both reports disappeared during internal processing.
One agent involved had retired in disgrace years later after taking bribes.
But Shaw had found something else.
Nolan left a safe-deposit box.
It remained unopened after his death because no family could be located.
The bank was scheduled to surrender abandoned contents to the state.
On Monday.
The day of Lorenzo's board vote.
Agent Shaw obtained a warrant.
Inside the box they found financial records.
Photographs.
And a list of eleven names.
Five were deceased.
Three were retired.
Riccardo Duca appeared twice.
Marco Vitali once.
Then Avery heard a name that made her grip the phone.
"Who was the last one?"
Shaw repeated it.
Eric Sloane.
Avery's dispatcher.
The man who had rerouted her Thursday night.
The man who knew her schedule.
The man who had suspended her after the story broke.
Avery looked at Lorenzo.
Everything began snapping into place.
Eric had access to old courier accounts.
Eric could restore Mary's shipping template.
Eric could assign Avery.
Eric could see deliveries to Box 314.
And Eric knew exactly where Avery lived.
Lorenzo was already calling security.
Avery dialed Eric.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a text came from his number.
I didn't choose you because you were useful, Avery.
A second message appeared.
I chose you because Mary told me someday you might finish what she started.
Avery stared.
Lorenzo read over her shoulder.
Then the third message arrived.
If you want the truth about your mother's accident, come to the old dispatch garage at midnight. Alone.
Avery's heart pounded.
Lorenzo said, "Absolutely not."
She looked at him.
"I know."
He blinked.
That wasn't the argument he'd expected.
Avery stared at the screen.
"Because if Eric knows anything about me at all, he knows I don't follow instructions anymore."
For the first time in her life, Avery Boon had begun understanding the difference between being useful and having power.
May you like
And at midnight, she intended to discover whether Eric Sloane understood the difference too.
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