Chapter 2 - The Letters That Never Reached Him
Dominic took Richard Vale’s phone before the man could lock the screen.
The message had come from an unlisted internal number.
No contact name.
No profile.
No history.
Just one sentence.
ELENA CARTER IS IN THE LOBBY. SHE BROUGHT THE BOX.
“Who sent this?” Dominic asked.
Richard’s answer came too quickly.
“I don’t know.”
Marco laughed once.
No humor.
“That was fast.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
Dominic stared at him.
Richard had worked for Moretti Holdings for eleven years.
He had survived mergers, federal audits, lawsuits, hostile takeovers, and one attempted blackmail scheme.
He did not panic easily.
But his pulse was visible at his throat.
Dominic handed the phone to Marco.
“Trace it.”
Richard shook his head.
“You’re overreacting.”
Elena let out a bitter breath.
“Overreacting?”
Richard finally looked at her.
For three months Elena had imagined this moment.
She had imagined screaming.
Demanding answers.
Throwing her termination letter in his face.
Instead she felt strangely calm.
Maybe because Lily’s hand was inside hers.
Maybe because the truth was finally standing in the open.
“You told me Dominic approved my dismissal,” Elena said.
Richard glanced at Dominic.
“He did.”
Dominic’s expression did not change.
“No.”
Richard frowned.
“You authorized a compliance restructuring.”
“That isn’t a termination order.”
“Your office approved the personnel decisions.”
“My office?”
Richard’s jaw shifted.
Dominic caught it.
There it was.
A correction disguised as precision.
Not Dominic.
His office.
Someone with access.
“Upstairs,” Dominic said.
Richard stayed still.
“I have a dinner.”
“Cancel it.”
“Dominic—”
“Now.”
Nobody argued with Dominic Moretti when his voice sounded like that.
They entered the private elevator.
Elena held Lily close.
The shoebox remained in Dominic’s hands.
Lily’s rabbit was tucked beneath her arm.
Richard stood at the opposite side.
Marco watched him.
The forty-second ride to the executive floor felt like ten minutes.
Dominic’s office occupied the top southwest corner of the tower.
Glass walls overlooked the snow-covered city.
A private conference room opened beside it.
Dominic locked the doors.
Then he placed the shoebox on the table.
“Start from the beginning,” he told Elena.
She looked at Richard.
“No.”
Dominic understood.
He turned to Marco.
“Put Richard in my office.”
Richard’s head snapped toward him.
“You’re detaining me?”
“I’m asking you to wait.”
“With a guard?”
“With Marco.”
Richard stared at the security chief.
Marco smiled politely.
Richard went into the office.
The door shut.
Dominic turned back.
Elena sat beside Lily.
“Three months ago,” she began, “I was reviewing payments to subcontractors on the Hudson redevelopment.”
Dominic remembered the project.
Four towers.
Nine hundred million dollars.
One of Moretti Holdings’ largest developments.
“I found duplicate invoices,” Elena continued. “Small amounts at first. Fifty thousand. Seventy-five. Ninety. Spread across different companies.”
“How much total?”
“Twenty-three million.”
Dominic’s face went still.
Marco, listening through the doorway, swore softly.
Elena continued.
“The vendors looked independent. But they all shared banking relationships through shell companies.”
“Where?”
“Delaware. Nevada. The Cayman Islands.”
“Who approved them?”
Elena looked toward the office where Richard waited.
“Finance.”
Dominic leaned back.
“But not only Richard.”
She pulled the folded vendor sheet from the shoebox.
“There were authorization codes attached to every payment.”
Dominic unfolded it.
DMC-0417.
DMC-0418.
DMC-0419.
His initials.
His fake authorization codes.
“All supposedly mine,” he said.
Elena nodded.
“At first I thought you knew.”
“Why didn’t you come directly to me?”
“I tried.”
She pointed toward the letters.
“I emailed your office. No response. I requested meetings. They were canceled. I called your assistant.”
“Which assistant?”
“Claire Donnelly.”
Dominic frowned.
Claire had been his executive assistant for eight years.
Organized.
Loyal.
Almost obsessively protective of his schedule.
“She told me you had reviewed the matter and wanted me to stop investigating.”
Dominic’s stare sharpened.
“I never told her that.”
Elena’s fingers tightened.
“A week later I was called into HR.”
She swallowed.
“They accused me of copying confidential financial files. Richard was there. So was Claire.”
“What happened?”
“They told me resign quietly or be terminated for misconduct.”
“You refused.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“They gave me the letter.”
Dominic looked again at his forged signature.
Elena’s voice dropped.
“I kept trying to reach you after that. Every letter came back or disappeared.”
“And the flash drive?”
“Copies of the payment records.”
Dominic reached toward it.
Elena caught his wrist.
“Don’t put that into any computer connected to your network.”
Dominic looked at her hand.
She released him.
“Why?”
“Because two days after I copied those files, someone remotely wiped my workstation.”
Marco stepped closer.
“Our systems can do that.”
“I know.”
Dominic’s eyes went toward Richard’s closed door.
“Who has authority?”
Marco answered.
“IT security. Executive administration. Finance, under emergency compliance protocols.”
Dominic thought for several seconds.
“Three departments.”
Elena nodded.
“Which is why I stopped knowing who to trust.”
Lily had been silent.
Now she tugged her mother’s sleeve.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can I say something?”
Elena looked tired.
“Of course.”
Lily pointed toward the shoebox.
“The blue envelope.”
Elena froze.
“What blue envelope?”
“The one that fell behind the closet.”
She reached into the box.
From beneath the letters Lily removed a small blue envelope.
Elena stared at it.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Dominic took it.
No address.
No stamp.
Only Elena’s name.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A photocopy of a bank transfer.
$500,000.
Recipient: E. CARTER CONSULTING.
Elena looked stunned.
“That isn’t mine.”
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
TAKE THE MONEY AND STAY QUIET.
Dominic read it twice.
Richard’s signature appeared beneath the transfer approval.
Elena stood.
“I have never had an account like this.”
“I believe you.”
She looked at him.
“How can you say that so quickly?”
“Because if someone wanted to bribe you, they wouldn’t put the evidence in your closet.”
She slowly sat.
“They wanted to frame me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dominic looked at the twenty-three-million-dollar vendor sheet.
“To make sure nobody believed you.”
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
“Trace came back.”
Dominic turned.
“The message to Richard?”
Marco nodded.
“Sent through an internal relay.”
“Whose credentials?”
Marco hesitated.
“Claire Donnelly.”
Silence.
Dominic did not move.
Claire.
His assistant.
The woman who controlled access to his office.
His calendar.
His mail.
His digital authorizations.
His travel schedule.
Everything.
He pressed the intercom.
“Get Claire in here.”
No response.
He pressed again.
Nothing.
Marco checked his phone.
“She left the building nineteen minutes ago.”
Dominic looked toward the security system.
“Before Lily arrived?”
“Four minutes after.”
Elena’s face tightened.
“She saw us.”
“Or someone told her.”
Dominic stood.
“Lock the exits.”
Marco nodded.
“I’ll alert downstairs.”
Before he could move, the office door opened.
Richard stepped out.
“You can stop searching.”
Marco raised an eyebrow.
“Sit down.”
Richard ignored him.
He looked directly at Dominic.
“Claire isn’t the person you should be worried about.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“You want to explain that?”
Richard glanced at Elena.
Then Lily.
“This should not happen in front of the child.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“I’m staying.”
Richard almost smiled.
“She’s definitely yours, Elena.”
Elena did not respond.
Richard looked back at Dominic.
“You’re assuming someone stole money.”
“Twenty-three million says I’m not assuming.”
“You think that’s the problem?”
Dominic waited.
Richard slowly lowered himself into a chair.
“The Hudson payments weren’t theft.”
Elena stared at him.
“What were they?”
Richard looked toward the windows.
“Protection.”
Dominic’s voice became colder.
“From whom?”
Richard turned.
“Your uncle.”
The room changed.
Dominic’s uncle Carlo Moretti had been dead for seven years.
He had been the last true criminal head of the Moretti family before Dominic dismantled most of the organization.
Carlo had died of a heart attack in Sicily.
Or so Dominic had been told.
“That’s impossible,” Dominic said.
Richard nodded.
“I thought so too.”
He reached into his suit pocket very slowly.
Marco watched every movement.
Richard pulled out an old photograph.
He slid it across the table.
Dominic picked it up.
The photograph had been taken only five weeks earlier.
A man leaving a restaurant in Montreal.
Older.
Heavier.
Gray-haired.
But unmistakable.
Carlo Moretti.
Alive.
Dominic stared.
Elena watched the blood leave his face.
Richard leaned forward.
“The twenty-three million wasn’t stolen from you.”
Dominic lifted his eyes.
“It was being sent to him.”
His phone rang.
Private number.
Dominic answered.
No voice.
Only breathing.
Then a familiar man spoke.
May you like
A voice Dominic had not heard since standing beside a coffin seven years ago.
“Hello, nephew.”
