Chapter 4 - The Ledger That Shouldn't Exist
The letter was six pages long.
Beatrice read the first line twice.
My darling Bea, if this letter has reached you, then I failed to finish what I started.
Her father's voice seemed to return through the handwriting.
Thomas explained that the fraud at Gallagher & Wilkes was larger than a single executive.
Wilkes had been moving client money through shell companies.
But someone had discovered it before Thomas.
Dante's father, Lorenzo Moretti.
Beatrice looked up.
Dante said nothing.
She continued.
Lorenzo had secretly supplied Thomas with records proving that several companies carrying the Moretti name were being used without authorization.
He wasn't part of the fraud.
He was helping expose it.
Beatrice reached the sentence that changed everything.
Lorenzo Moretti saved my life once. If anything happens to me, do not blame his family.
She exhaled.
Dante looked away.
“What?”
“My father spent his life being blamed for things attached to our name.”
“Mine trusted him.”
Dante nodded.
“Apparently.”
The final page identified where Thomas had hidden the complete ledger.
Not the bank.
Not his home.
Inside Gallagher & Wilkes itself.
A storage room behind the original accounting vault.
Beatrice almost laughed.
“He hid it under Wilkes's nose.”
“Smart man.”
“He was an accountant.”
“I'll revise my opinion of accountants.”
“You'd better.”
They returned to the office with Samuel Reed and an attorney.
This time Beatrice wasn't sneaking.
She walked through the lobby.
Employees stared.
Vanessa appeared near reception.
“Beatrice, HR needs to speak with you.”
“Wonderful.”
Beatrice kept walking.
“Beatrice!”
She stopped.
Vanessa approached with two security officers.
“You've been suspended.”
“On whose authority?”
“Mr. Wilkes.”
Beatrice handed her attorney the notice.
He read it.
“Suspended for suspected financial misconduct?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Yes.”
Beatrice smiled.
“So it begins.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means your timing is terrible.”
She continued toward the elevator.
One guard stepped in front.
Dante moved.
Beatrice raised a hand.
“No.”
He stopped.
She looked at the guard.
“I am a senior accountant of this firm. My access has not been legally terminated, and my counsel is present. If you physically prevent me from retrieving personal records after I've reported suspected financial fraud, you'll get to explain that decision under oath.”
The guard stepped aside.
Dante smiled.
“What?”
Beatrice asked.
“Nothing.”
“You're smiling.”
“I enjoy competence.”
They reached the old records floor.
The hidden storage room was exactly where Thomas described.
Behind a shelving unit.
Inside they found twelve banker boxes.
Invoices.
Authorization sheets.
Vendor records.
And the original ledger.
Beatrice touched the cover.
Nineteen years.
Her father had died believing the truth might never emerge.
Now his daughter was holding it.
Samuel whispered, “Thomas did it.”
“No,” Beatrice said.
She looked at Dante.
“We finish it.”
They documented everything before removing a single page.
The ledger showed millions siphoned from clients.
But the last box contained something unexpected.
Employee evaluations.
Private notes.
Internal correspondence.
Wilkes had maintained files on vulnerable workers.
Divorces.
Medical debts.
Immigration concerns.
Family emergencies.
Anything that could be exploited.
Beatrice found her own.
GALLAGHER, BEATRICE.
Dependable. Low confrontation risk. Strong technical ability. Sensitive about appearance/social acceptance. Responds to praise from authority.
Her stomach turned.
They had studied her.
Not to promote her.
To control her.
An entry from six years earlier read:
Ideal credential holder for restricted vendor reconciliations.
Dante read over her shoulder.
“I want to break something.”
“Get in line.”
Beatrice photographed every page.
Then she found Vanessa's file.
High debt.
Dependent parent.
Promotion contingent upon loyalty.
Beatrice frowned.
“She's being used too.”
Dante looked at her.
“She laughed at you.”
“That doesn't make this right.”
“She helped Wilkes.”
“Then she answers for what she did. Not for what he did to her.”
Dante studied Beatrice.
“What?”
“You keep surprising me.”
“Why?”
“Most people become cruel the moment cruelty becomes available to them.”
Beatrice closed Vanessa's file.
“I've had enough cruelty.”
By evening, regulators had copies.
So did the firm's outside counsel.
Wilkes disappeared.
His phone was off.
His apartment was empty.
But the company wasn't saved yet.
The fraud implicated senior managers, vendors, and clients.
News broke at 6:14 p.m.
By 6:20, reporters surrounded the building.
By 6:30, Beatrice's photograph was everywhere.
Unfortunately, it wasn't flattering.
It showed her leaving the gala holding Dante's hand.
The headline read:
ACCOUNTANT AT CENTER OF MORETTI FINANCIAL SCANDAL.
Beatrice stared at it.
“They're making me the criminal.”
Dante's phone rang continuously.
His attorney wanted him silent.
His advisers wanted Beatrice kept away from cameras.
Beatrice made her own decision.
“I'm speaking.”
Dante looked at her.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Beatrice, anything you say—”
“I know what testimony is.”
“This isn't testimony. It's television.”
“Then they'll finally see me.”
She walked outside.
Microphones surrounded her.
“Ms. Gallagher, are you romantically involved with Dante Moretti?”
“Did you steal company funds?”
“Are you cooperating with investigators?”
“Did Moretti threaten Harold Wilkes?”
Beatrice raised her hand.
The questions slowed.
“My name is Beatrice Gallagher. I've worked as an accountant for Gallagher & Wilkes for eleven years. Yesterday I discovered evidence that my professional credentials had been used without my authorization.”
Cameras flashed.
“I did not steal client money. I did not authorize fraudulent transfers. I reported what I found.”
A reporter shouted, “What is your relationship with Dante Moretti?”
Beatrice glanced at him.
He stood behind the crowd.
Waiting.
Not speaking for her.
Not rescuing her.
She smiled faintly.
“Complicated.”
Laughter moved through the reporters.
For once, it wasn't at her expense.
Then a journalist shouted another question.
“Why did Moretti call you his queen?”
Beatrice's cheeks warmed.
“You'll have to ask him.”
Every camera turned.
Dante stared at her.
She raised an eyebrow.
His turn.
He stepped toward the microphones.
“I said it because a room full of people had spent the evening trying to make an intelligent woman feel small.”
Silence.
“And I was tired of watching them succeed.”
Beatrice forgot the cameras for a second.
Then a reporter called out.
“Are you in love with her?”
Dante looked directly at Beatrice.
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Her heartbeat did something deeply inconvenient.
That evening, they returned to Samuel's office.
Vanessa was waiting.
Her eyes were red.
“I need to talk to Beatrice.”
Dante said, “No.”
Beatrice said, “Yes.”
Vanessa handed her a phone.
“I recorded Wilkes.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know now.”
The recording began.
Wilkes's voice.
Angry.
Terrified.
Then another voice appeared.
A voice Beatrice recognized.
Her blood went cold.
She looked at Vanessa.
“Who else was in that room?”
Vanessa started crying.
“You're not going to believe me.”
“Tell me.”
Before Vanessa could answer, the office door opened.
Margaret Gallagher stood there.
Beatrice's mother looked at the phone.
Then at her daughter.
May you like
And whispered:
“Bea, turn that recording off. I already know who's speaking.”
