Chapter 4 - The Man Who Knew About Leo
Luca moved before I understood what was happening.
“Marisol,” he called.
The cabin manager turned.
“Keep Leo here.”
Leo frowned.
“Dad?”
“Just one minute, buddy.”
Luca guided me and Elena back toward the aircraft door.
Raymond approached slowly.
The two men behind him stopped several yards away.
One wore an airport badge.
The other carried the folder.
“Luca,” Raymond said.
“You weren’t supposed to come here.”
“I know.”
“You said nobody knew about today.”
“I was wrong.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Who?”
Raymond looked at me.
“You must be Anna.”
“Do not change the subject.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I see why Luca married you.”
I disliked him immediately.
The man with the folder stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Luca positioned himself slightly in front of me.
“Yes.”
“I’m Daniel Cross. Attorney for the Moretti aviation trust.”
Luca’s shoulders relaxed half an inch.
“You’re Cross?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we were meeting tomorrow.”
“We were.”
Daniel looked toward Raymond.
“Until Mr. Hale called me forty minutes ago.”
“What happened?”
Daniel opened the folder.
“A withdrawal request was filed this morning.”
“For how much?”
“All of it.”
My pulse jumped.
“All two million?”
“Two point three, approximately.”
“Who filed it?”
Daniel looked at Elena.
Then me.
Then Luca.
“That is the problem.”
He removed a paper.
“The request carries Anna Moretti’s electronic authorization.”
I stared at him.
“My what?”
Luca took the document.
“That’s impossible.”
“I agree,” Daniel said. “Mrs. Moretti could not legally authorize the transfer because she is not trustee.”
“Then why use her name?”
“To create confusion.”
Raymond spoke quietly.
“Or to make Luca suspect his wife.”
I looked at him.
“Why would anyone care whether my husband suspects me?”
“Because divided families make bad witnesses.”
The sentence hung there.
Daniel continued.
“The transfer was stopped automatically because the destination account triggered a compliance review.”
“Destination where?”
“Cayman Islands.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Luca studied the authorization.
“This signature.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“It looks like yours.”
I took it.
It did.
Not just similar.
Nearly exact.
Then I noticed the date.
Three days earlier.
I had been at Leo’s school volunteering at a book fair.
“Someone forged it.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
“But who had my signature?”
Luca and I looked at each other.
Then we both thought of the same thing.
Our mortgage.
Tax returns.
School documents.
Insurance paperwork.
Dozens of places.
“This is bigger than the old fraud,” Luca said.
“Yes,” Daniel replied.
“And whoever is doing it knows about Leo.”
“Yes.”
I turned to Raymond.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
The old man looked suddenly exhausted.
“Antonio was not the only person who profited from the company.”
“Who else?”
“My brother.”
Luca froze.
I remembered.
Raymond had a younger brother.
Stephen Hale.
He had worked in accounting.
Luca mentioned him perhaps twice in eleven years.
“Stephen died,” Luca said.
Raymond shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Two months after your father died.”
Elena stepped closer.
“Raymond.”
“I thought he was dead.”
“You told me he was.”
“I believed it.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted me to.”
Raymond’s voice broke.
“For twenty years, I’ve been cleaning up sins I should have stopped when I had the chance.”
Luca’s anger sharpened.
“You signed the documents that drove my mother away.”
“Yes.”
“You watched my father lie to me.”
“Yes.”
“And now you tell me there was another man involved?”
“Yes.”
Luca stepped toward him.
I touched his arm.
Not because Raymond deserved protection.
Because Leo was twenty feet away watching.
Luca saw my hand.
He stopped.
Raymond lowered his eyes.
“I deserve your anger.”
“You deserve more than that.”
“Probably.”
Daniel interrupted.
“We should move this conversation somewhere private.”
The airport security officer finally approached.
Apparently, he had been arranged by Daniel after the transfer attempt.
We moved into a small airline conference room near the gate.
Leo came with us.
I gave him headphones and a tablet.
There are moments when parenting becomes absurd.
You are discussing fraud, family betrayal, and international bank transfers while your child watches cartoons three feet away.
Daniel spread documents across the table.
The old aviation company had maintained a reserve account.
Stephen Hale learned years ago that the trust connected to it survived Antonio’s death.
He apparently tried several times to access it.
Each attempt failed because the beneficiary—Leo—had been a minor.
“Why not steal it earlier?” I asked.
“He needed legal authority,” Daniel said.
“Which he doesn’t have.”
“Correct.”
“But he’s trying to manufacture it.”
“Exactly.”
Luca pointed at my forged signature.
“Why Anna?”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Because someone submitted an affidavit claiming you and Luca are divorcing.”
Silence.
“What?”
“They attached supporting documents.”
“We are not divorcing.”
“I know.”
“What documents?”
Daniel slid over several pages.
There it was.
A petition.
My name.
Luca’s.
A fabricated case number.
And a reason.
IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES.
I stared.
It felt obscene.
Not because divorce was unthinkable.
Because a stranger had written the death of my marriage into a document as casually as ordering lunch.
Leo laughed softly at something on his tablet.
The sound almost broke me.
Luca read the document.
His face changed.
“Anna.”
“I know it’s fake.”
“No. Look.”
He pointed at an attached statement.
It quoted private text messages.
Mine.
Real ones.
Messages I had sent Rebecca.
Three weeks earlier.
I don’t know what’s happening with Luca.
He’s hiding something.
For the first time in our marriage, I’m afraid he’s lying to me.
Another:
I keep wondering whether there’s someone else.
My chest tightened.
“How did they get these?”
Luca looked sick.
“Your phone?”
“No.”
“Rebecca’s?”
I stood.
My sister.
Rebecca had helped arrange the surprise flight.
She knew our itinerary.
She knew my suspicions.
She knew everything.
“No,” I said immediately.
Luca said nothing.
I looked at him.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought it.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Mrs. Moretti, nobody is accusing your sister.”
“Good.”
“However, someone accessed either your account or hers.”
I grabbed my phone.
Called Rebecca.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Text.
Nothing.
A cold sensation moved up my spine.
Rebecca always answered me.
Especially when she knew I was traveling.
I called a third time.
Straight to voicemail.
Leo took off one headphone.
“Is Aunt Rebecca okay?”
I forced a smile.
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Rebecca.
Finally.
I opened it.
There were no words.
Only a photograph.
Rebecca stood in her kitchen.
Behind her was a man I had never seen.
He held one hand on the back of her chair.
On the counter between them sat the same cream-colored trust folder Daniel had in front of us.
Below the photo came one sentence.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR SISTER LEFT OUT OF THIS.
Then another message arrived.
An address.
May you like
And beneath it:
DON’T TELL LUCA.
