Chapter 6 - THE WATCH THAT REMEMBERED EVERYTHING
“You shouldn't trust me because of my name.”
Cesare's answer was quiet.
Renata stood in Matteo's office, clutching the complaint.
“Then why should I trust you at all?”
“Because I'm willing to find out what my family did, even if the answer destroys everything I've inherited.”
Matteo scoffed.
“Don't be dramatic, Cesare.”
Cesare turned toward him.
“My father signed an accusation based on evidence nobody here can produce.”
“He was protecting this company.”
“From what?”
Matteo's jaw tightened.
“From a scandal that could have destroyed thousands of jobs.”
Renata looked at him.
“So it was easier to destroy one man?”
The older man's expression flickered.
For the first time, he had no immediate answer.
Cesare collected copies of the relevant records.
“The shipment is suspended. No gold moves through our facilities until an independent examination is completed.”
Matteo stepped forward.
“You can't freeze the entire operation over a woman's suspicions.”
Cesare's voice became dangerously calm.
“They are no longer suspicions.”
Renata walked out before either man could say another word.
She needed air.
She needed distance.
Most of all, she needed her father.
An hour later, she was standing in the narrow kitchen of her mother's townhouse outside Baltimore.
Nadia Sabo opened the door wearing an old cardigan and reading glasses.
One look at her daughter's face was enough.
“What happened?”
Renata placed the copied complaint on the kitchen table.
Her mother read it.
Slowly.
Then she sat down.
“Oh, Marek.”
Renata's heart twisted.
“You knew?”
Nadia nodded.
“He told me there had been accusations.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he asked me not to.”
Renata stared at her.
“He let me think everything at the refinery was fine.”
“He didn't want you carrying his shame.”
“He had nothing to be ashamed of!”
“I know, sweetheart.”
Nadia's voice trembled.
“But your father was a proud man. After they accused him, people stopped returning his calls. Employers who once begged for his opinion suddenly wouldn't interview him.”
Renata sank into the opposite chair.
She remembered those months.
Her father spending afternoons repairing old appliances.
The careful way he talked about retirement.
The bills her mother quietly paid.
“He was looking for work,” Renata whispered.
Nadia nodded.
“Every day.”
Renata began to cry.
Not loudly.
Just exhausted tears falling onto the table.
“I thought he was finally enjoying being home.”
Her mother reached for her hand.
“He enjoyed being with us. That part was real.”
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Nadia rose and opened the ordinary kitchen cabinet where she kept family records.
She brought down a battered metal tin.
Inside were photographs, receipts, her father's work notebooks, and his old silver watch.
Renata picked it up.
The glass had a small crack near the twelve.
The leather strap was worn smooth.
“He used to let me wind this,” she whispered.
Nadia smiled sadly.
“He said you were the only person who never overwound it.”
Renata turned the watch over.
Engraved on the back were three words.
WEIGHT NEVER LIES.
Her father had said that a thousand times.
Nadia opened one of the notebooks.
“He told me these were the records of what really happened. I didn't understand most of them.”
Renata began reading.
Measurements.
Casting temperatures.
Experimental bar designs.
A list of twenty-two demonstration specimens.
Her heart accelerated.
Twenty-two.
Exactly the number in the duffel.
But the notebook contained something else.
An entry dated October 2022.
Reject external broker request. Project specifications must not be used for commercial production.
Below it was an initial.
V.K.
Victor Kells.
The broker who had supplied the forged gold.
Renata reached for her phone.
Then stopped.
She didn't want another secret conversation.
She wanted evidence that could survive being questioned.
She photographed the notebook pages, recorded their condition, and asked her mother to keep the originals safe.
By evening, she was back at Morandi Maritime Holdings.
Cesare was waiting beside a table covered in financial records.
He looked relieved to see her.
“I wasn't sure you'd come.”
“Neither was I.”
She placed the photographs before him.
“My father knew Victor Kells.”
Cesare's face darkened.
“Then this goes back much farther than the shipment.”
He opened a company payment ledger.
“I found something while reviewing the trust's outside consultants.”
Renata looked at the screen.
A company called Sabo Technical Verification had received regular payments from a Northline subsidiary.
The monthly amount was $4,800.
The payments began in 2021.
And continued through October 2026.
Renata felt the blood leave her face.
“My father died in December 2022.”
“I know.”
“Then why are they still paying him?”
Cesare enlarged the most recent transaction.
The payment beneficiary was listed as M. Sabo.
The account remained active.
And the authorized approving officer was Matteo Morandi.
Renata stared at the numbers.
Someone had stolen her father's reputation.
Someone had stolen his professional identity.
And someone had been making money from his name for nearly four years after his death.
Cesare looked at her.
“This wasn't just a forged certificate.”
May you like
His voice was grim.
“Renata, someone has turned your dead father into an employee who never stopped working.”
