Chapter 2 - The Letter He Never Received
Dominic stared at Elena’s handwriting.
He did not unfold the page.
Not yet.
He had spent most of his adult life learning that the most dangerous moment in any confrontation was not when somebody shouted.
It was when everyone became quiet.
Elena was quiet now.
So was Anthony.
Even Lily seemed to sense that something had shifted.
Dominic slid the page back into its envelope.
“We’re not doing this in the lobby.”
Elena gave him a suspicious look.
“I’m not going upstairs with you.”
“Then we use the conference room beside security. Glass walls. Cameras. Two exits. Your daughter stays with you.”
“I said we’re leaving.”
“And somebody inside this building forged my signature to fire you.”
“That still doesn’t make you trustworthy.”
“No.”
The answer seemed to surprise her.
Dominic continued.
“But it makes whoever did this dangerous to both of us.”
Elena glanced toward the snowy entrance.
She wanted to leave.
Dominic could see it.
Seven years earlier, she had always leaned slightly toward a door when frightened, as if calculating the distance between herself and escape.
She was doing it now.
Lily tugged her sleeve.
“Mom, can we stay?”
Elena looked down.
“No.”
“But he didn’t fire you.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I know that,” Dominic said.
Elena’s head snapped toward him.
“Congratulations.”
Anthony wisely stepped backward.
Dominic exhaled through his nose.
Some things had changed.
Elena’s ability to anger him in six words had not.
“Fifteen minutes,” Dominic said. “Then you leave if you want.”
“No guards following us?”
“No.”
“No cars parked outside my building?”
“No.”
“No people asking Lily questions without me there?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened at the implication.
“Never.”
Elena studied him.
Finally she nodded.
“Fifteen minutes.”
They entered the small conference room off the security office.
Lily sat beside her mother with the rabbit in her lap.
Dominic placed the shoebox and termination letter on the table.
Anthony remained outside.
Elena watched the box as though it contained a bomb.
Dominic sat opposite her.
“Start with yesterday.”
“I came to work at eight.”
“What department?”
“Financial compliance.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Eleven months.”
Dominic frowned.
“You’ve been in this building almost a year?”
“I work on twenty-three.”
Dominic’s executive offices occupied forty through forty-four.
It was entirely possible they had never crossed paths.
Still, something about that knowledge bothered him.
“You applied under your own name.”
“Yes.”
“My HR systems should have flagged it.”
“Maybe somebody made sure they didn’t.”
Dominic looked at her.
Elena realized what she had just implied.
Neither spoke for a moment.
“What were you working on before you were terminated?”
“A routine vendor reconciliation.”
“Which vendor?”
“Marcelli Logistics.”
Dominic knew the name.
A transportation company Moretti Holdings had used for decades.
Salvatore had personally recommended them.
Elena continued.
“The invoices didn’t match.”
“How badly?”
“Two hundred thousand over eighteen months.”
“That’s not enough to risk forging my signature.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
Dominic leaned back.
Elena folded her hands.
“When I followed the vendor codes, I found related payments routed through employee assistance accounts.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
The Moretti Employee Relief Fund paid medical bills, housing emergencies, and funeral expenses for employees and their families.
It had been established by Dominic’s father.
Nobody touched that fund.
Nobody.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Estimate.”
Elena hesitated.
“Several million.”
Dominic’s eyes went cold.
Lily looked at him.
“You look mad again.”
Elena immediately put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“He’s fine.”
“I’m not mad at either of you,” Dominic said.
Lily accepted that.
Elena did not.
“What happened after you found the discrepancy?” Dominic asked.
“I requested archival payment records.”
“From?”
“Corporate records.”
“Who approved access?”
“My supervisor.”
“Name?”
“Claire Whitman.”
Dominic knew Claire.
Careful.
Competent.
Twenty years with the company.
“And then?”
“Yesterday morning, Claire called me into her office. She looked terrified. She said my access had been revoked.”
“By whom?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“At noon, a woman from executive HR told me to go home.”
“Name?”
“I’d never seen her.”
“She came to your apartment?”
“Yes. At six.”
“And handed you this?”
Elena nodded toward the termination letter.
“Did she identify herself?”
“No.”
“You took a termination notice from an unidentified stranger?”
“She knew my employee ID. My home address. Lily’s name.”
That changed the room.
Dominic leaned forward.
“She mentioned Lily?”
“She said, ‘You have a daughter to think about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’”
Dominic’s expression became unreadable.
Elena saw it.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Turn into whatever version of Dominic Moretti everybody is afraid of.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“I know your face.”
“You knew my face seven years ago.”
“I know that one too.”
For one dangerous second, something old passed between them.
Then Lily spoke.
“What was in the letters?”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Lily.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t have taken them.”
“I know.”
Dominic looked at the shoebox.
“Why did they arrive three weeks ago?”
“I don’t know.”
“They were delivered anonymously?”
“Yes.”
“All together?”
“In a larger box.”
“Any note?”
“No.”
“Postmark?”
“Queens.”
“Anything inside besides these?”
Elena hesitated.
Dominic noticed.
“What else?”
“Nothing important.”
“Elena.”
“Don’t.”
He stared at her.
“You want my help discovering who fired you, but you’re hiding evidence.”
“I did not ask for your help.”
“Your seven-year-old took a bus across Manhattan because she believed nobody else could fix this.”
Elena flinched.
Dominic regretted the words as soon as he said them.
Lily looked down at the rabbit.
Elena’s voice became softer.
“She shouldn’t have had to.”
“No.”
Dominic looked at Lily.
“And she won’t have to again.”
Elena studied him.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise she doesn’t handle adult problems alone.”
The room went still again.
Elena reached for the shoebox.
She removed the top layer of letters.
Beneath them lay a small envelope.
Not old.
New.
It had arrived with the box.
She pushed it across the table.
Dominic opened it.
Inside was a single typed sentence.
ASK SALVATORE WHY THESE NEVER LEFT THE BUILDING.
Dominic read it twice.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Elena laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Because seven years ago your uncle came to my apartment.”
Dominic’s gaze lifted.
“What?”
“Three days after I sent you that letter.”
The envelope on the table suddenly seemed heavier.
“What did he want?”
“To explain that you had made your choice.”
“What choice?”
Elena looked toward Lily.
Dominic followed her gaze.
Something inside him tightened.
“Elena.”
“Not here.”
“We’re already here.”
“I’m not discussing it in front of her.”
Lily frowned.
“Discussing what?”
Elena stood.
“Bathroom.”
“Mom.”
“Come on.”
“I don’t have to go.”
“You do now.”
Lily sighed dramatically but followed her mother toward the restroom beside the conference area.
Dominic waited until the door closed.
Then he turned to Anthony.
“Get me everything on Salvatore’s access to internal mail from seven years ago.”
“Already started.”
“Where is he?”
Anthony glanced at his phone.
“Dinner meeting at Bellucci’s.”
“Cancel it.”
“He won’t like that.”
“I’m past caring.”
Anthony nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Find Claire Whitman.”
Anthony typed quickly.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Claire didn’t come to work today.”
“Call her.”
“I did.”
“No answer?”
“Phone’s off.”
“Home?”
Anthony looked at Dominic.
“Her apartment door was open when building security checked twenty minutes ago.”
Dominic rose.
“Where is she?”
“They don’t know.”
Elena returned with Lily.
She saw Dominic standing.
“What happened?”
“Your supervisor is missing.”
Elena’s face drained.
“Claire?”
Dominic nodded.
Elena sat again.
“No.”
“What?”
“She called me last night.”
Dominic focused on her.
“You didn’t mention that.”
“I missed it.”
“Voicemail?”
Elena took out her phone.
“I didn’t listen until this morning.”
She opened the message.
Claire’s voice filled the small room.
“Elena, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. The invoices aren’t the real problem. Find the original employee trust agreement from 1998. Look at page fourteen. Don’t trust the digital copy. And whatever you do, don’t—”
The voicemail ended.
Dominic stared at the phone.
“Don’t what?”
“That’s all.”
Anthony was already moving.
“I’ll pull the trust agreement.”
Dominic stopped him.
“No digital copy.”
Anthony nodded and left.
Elena looked at Dominic.
“Why 1998?”
“My father created the employee trust that year.”
“Who witnessed it?”
Dominic knew before he answered.
“Salvatore.”
Elena stared at him.
Lily hugged the rabbit.
“Is Uncle Salvatore bad?”
Dominic looked sharply at her.
“How do you know his name?”
Lily blinked.
“He came to our apartment.”
Elena turned so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
“What?”
Lily shrank back.
“When?”
“Last week.”
Elena’s face went white.
“You never told me.”
“You were working.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Lily.”
“He asked if you were home.”
Dominic rose slowly.
“Was he alone?”
“Yes.”
“What did he look like?”
Lily pointed toward the glass wall.
Everyone turned.
A man had just entered the security corridor.
Late sixties.
Silver hair.
Charcoal overcoat.
A polished cane he did not need.
Salvatore Moretti.
He stopped when he saw Dominic.
Then Elena.
Then Lily.
Finally the shoebox.
For the first time in Dominic’s life, he watched his uncle lose control of his face.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Salvatore entered the conference room.
“What is she doing here?”
Dominic’s voice went quiet.
“Which one?”
Salvatore looked at Elena.
“You were told to leave.”
Elena stood.
Lily pressed against her side.
Dominic moved between Salvatore and them.
“By whom?”
Salvatore’s eyes returned to Dominic.
“This is a personnel matter.”
“No. It became a family matter seven years ago.”
Salvatore’s gaze dropped to the old envelope.
Elena’s letter.
His face changed again.
Dominic noticed.
He picked it up.
“You’ve seen this before.”
Salvatore said nothing.
Dominic unfolded the page.
Elena whispered, “Dominic…”
He began reading.
The first line was simple.
Dominic, I tried to tell you in person, but your family won’t let me near you.
He read the next line.
Then the next.
His hands stopped moving.
Across the table, Salvatore closed his eyes.
Dominic looked at Lily.
Then at Elena.
And finally at his uncle.
The letter had been written seven years earlier.
May you like
Elena had been pregnant.
And the child she was carrying belonged to Dominic.
