Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO WASN’T SUPPOSED TO MATTER
Alina read the yellow page twice the next morning.
Matteo read it once.
Then he placed it flat against the private dining-room table.
“He knew,” Bella said.
“Yes,” Alina replied.
“He knew the reserves were restricted.”
“Yes.”
“Then remove him.”
Alina looked frustrated rather than satisfied.
“This strengthens the case. It does not complete it.”
Bella stared at her.
“He wrote ‘alternative authorization.’”
“Which his counsel will argue meant another lawful trustee approval.”
“He asked me to reclassify my son’s protected money.”
“And he can claim he relied on internal advice.”
Bella pushed herself back from the table.
“Every answer has another door behind it.”
“In families like this,” Matteo said quietly, “usually two.”
Bella looked at him sharply.
Alina had brought a laptop.
She opened a document log provided by the trust’s internal system.
“The form Adriano gave you was not created in Adriano’s office.”
Bella frowned.
“Where?”
Alina rotated the computer.
“David Moretti’s administrative suite.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
David was his nephew, Adriano’s older cousin, and the man expected to supervise company operations if Adriano was temporarily removed.
Bella immediately understood the problem.
“If David prepared the form, he benefits if Adriano signs it.”
“He benefits even more if Adriano gets caught using it,” Alina said.
Matteo stood.
“David has spent fifteen years believing Adriano inherited a position he earned.”
“Did he?” Bella asked.
Matteo did not answer.
That was an answer.
Bella looked at the yellow note again.
“So Adriano may be stealing from the trust, and David may be helping him do it so he can expose him.”
“We don’t know that,” Alina said.
“Wonderful.”
Bella closed her eyes briefly.
“Anything else?”
Matteo exchanged a glance with Alina.
Bella saw it.
“I’m pregnant, not blind.”
Alina slid another page toward her.
The transfer path had changed twice.
Initially, the eight million dollars had been directed to a temporary escrow account.
Three days later, it had been rerouted through Bianca’s event-management company.
Then the final recipient became Victoria Rever.
“Who changed it?” Bella asked.
“That is what we’re determining.”
Bella looked at Matteo.
“Tell me about Victoria.”
His face shut down.
“She was once associated with us.”
“That sounds like an obituary written by a corporation.”
“She worked with the family.”
“How closely?”
“Closely enough.”
Bella stood.
“I’m done accepting answers designed to make me stop asking questions.”
Matteo’s eyes lifted toward her.
She rested both hands on the table.
“My husband is sleeping with a woman whose company is being used to move eight million dollars to someone you refuse to discuss. My unborn child’s inheritance is being placed at risk. And apparently your backup successor may be helping arrange it.”
She looked directly at Matteo.
“If you want me useful, stop treating me like somebody’s wife.”
For the first time, a trace of respect entered his face.
“Victoria Rever was our chief financial officer.”
Bella froze.
“For how long?”
“Eleven years.”
“You called her a rival.”
“She became one.”
“Why?”
Matteo looked toward the window.
“She tried to destroy this family.”
Bella waited.
Nothing more came.
So she picked up her coat.
“Then I’ll ask somebody who doesn’t owe you loyalty.”
Matteo turned.
“Bella.”
But she was already leaving.
Finding Bianca required no detective.
Bella had spent a month documenting her husband’s affair.
She knew where Bianca bought coffee on Saturdays.
She knew what Pilates studio she attended.
She knew she always stopped afterward at a bakery on Charles Street and sat at the small table beside the front window.
Bella hated that she knew those things.
At eleven fourteen, Bianca walked inside wearing a camel-colored coat Bella recognized from a photograph on Adriano’s second phone.
She was thirty-three.
Beautiful in a polished, expensive way.
But when she saw Bella, the color disappeared from her face.
Bella had expected smugness.
Instead, Bianca looked afraid.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
“Bella.”
Bianca glanced toward the door.
“Is Adriano here?”
“No.”
That seemed to frighten her more.
Bella pointed toward the empty chair.
“Sit.”
“I don’t think—”
“Neither did I for almost a year. It was very convenient for both of you.”
Bianca sat.
Bella did not insult her.
Did not throw coffee.
Did not ask whether Bianca felt guilty.
She placed a photograph of the transfer record on the table.
“Why is eight million dollars passing through your company?”
Bianca stared.
“What?”
“Do not insult me twice.”
“I don’t know anything about eight million dollars.”
Bella watched her carefully.
“I know about the apartment.”
Bianca swallowed.
“The car.”
Silence.
“The flights.”
Bianca looked down.
“And the diamond ring.”
At that, Bianca touched her handbag as though something inside had suddenly become heavy.
“Adriano told me your marriage had been over for a long time.”
Bella felt the familiar blade turn.
“Did he?”
“He said you were staying together until after the baby.”
“The baby we fought three miscarriages to have?”
Bianca looked sick.
“I didn’t know that.”
Bella believed her.
She hated that too.
“Who is Victoria Rever?”
Bianca’s eyes lifted.
There.
Recognition.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because my son’s money is scheduled to reach her through your company.”
Bianca whispered something Bella almost missed.
“Oh God.”
She opened her handbag.
For one wild second Bella expected the diamond.
Instead Bianca removed an old photograph.
The picture had been folded so many times that the corners were white.
It showed Matteo thirty years younger standing beside an elegant dark-haired woman.
Victoria.
Between them stood Matteo’s late wife, Elena.
All three were smiling.
Not competitors.
Family.
Matteo’s arm was around Victoria’s shoulders.
On Victoria’s wrist hung a silver rosary bracelet Bella had seen in the Moretti family chapel.
Bianca turned the photograph over.
“Victoria is my aunt.”
Bella’s mouth went dry.
“Adriano knows?”
“He found out months after we met.”
“And stayed with you.”
Bianca’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
Bella looked at the back of the photograph.
There was writing.
Faded blue ink.
Bianca pushed it closer.
“That handwriting belongs to Adriano’s mother.”
Bella read the sentence.
If Matteo ever tells Adriano that Victoria betrayed this family, do not believe him.
May you like
Beneath it was a date.
Six months before Elena Moretti died.
