Chapter 5 - THE EIGHT-MILLION-DOLLAR LIE
“Eight million dollars?”
I stared at the document.
“That has to be a mistake.”
Agent Reyes sat across from me.
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
I looked at Sophie's name again.
Sophie Carter.
Eight million, four hundred thousand dollars.
My little girl owned three pairs of sneakers, a secondhand bicycle, and a stuffed rabbit with one missing ear.
Some nights, I'd worried about paying for school supplies.
Now someone was claiming she was the beneficiary of a fortune.
“Where did this money come from?”
Reyes opened the financial summary.
“According to the paperwork, the account was created shortly after Michael's death. The initial deposits came from companies connected to Harbor House.”
My skin turned cold.
“Money stolen from those families?”
“Some of the transfers appear to originate from the same network of accounts. We're tracing the funds.”
I stared at the paperwork.
“Why would they put it in Sophie's name?”
Reyes studied me.
“That's one of the questions we need answered.”
I thought of Teresa arriving at my apartment after the funeral.
Her gentle voice.
Her promises of security.
A cottage where my daughter could grow up.
Had I been offered a home out of compassion?
Or had the Morettis been keeping us close because Sophie was connected to stolen money?
I stood.
“I want my daughter out of that mansion.”
Reyes nodded.
“We're arranging a protected location.”
“And Bruno comes with us.”
She glanced toward the enormous dog sleeping near the doorway.
“I'll need to discuss the logistics, but I understand why you want him.”
“He saved her.”
“I believe you.”
I sat down again.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
“What happens to the money?”
“If it's connected to criminal activity, investigators will work to identify its lawful owners and victims. A name on a document doesn't necessarily establish legitimate ownership.”
I looked through the observation window.
Sophie was sitting beside a victim-support specialist, explaining why she'd drawn a red cape on a black dog.
She looked so small.
So completely unaware of the enormous financial crime someone had attached to her name.
“Please,” I whispered. “Don't let anyone make her part of this.”
Reyes's expression softened.
“We'll do everything legally available to protect her. Your daughter is a child, Elena. She isn't responsible for what adults did.”
I pressed my fingers against my eyes.
For the first time in three years, I felt someone understood.
But the relief didn't last.
A few minutes later, Gabriel entered the interview room.
He had given a preliminary statement about the night Michael died.
He looked exhausted.
“Dante's brother is back on Long Island.”
I looked up sharply.
“Luca?”
Gabriel nodded.
“He arrived from Florida three days ago. According to the estate's visitor records, Victor Cross met him at the south garage.”
I thought about the signet ring.
The same ring Dante had found in the tunnel.
“Why would they meet secretly?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Because they're running out of time.”
He explained that Harbor House planned to transfer its remaining assets into a new holding company on Friday.
The transaction would close the original trust's accounts.
Once completed, it could become much harder to trace where the missing funds had gone.
“Michael's records could stop them,” Gabriel said.
“Then stop them.”
“We need enough evidence to prove who controlled the transfers. Michael found pieces of the scheme, but Victor was careful.”
I stared at Gabriel.
“And you waited three years to tell us?”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
I expected an excuse.
He didn't offer one.
“I was terrified,” he said. “I watched Luca's men attack Michael. They tried to kill me afterward. I told myself hiding was the only way to stay alive.”
“And my daughter paid for your silence.”
He nodded.
“She did.”
I looked away.
There was something strangely exhausting about hearing powerful men confess they were frightened.
Michael had been frightened too.
But he'd still tried to do the right thing.
That afternoon, federal authorities arranged for Sophie and me to stay in a protected apartment outside the Moretti estate.
The building belonged to a nonprofit organization that worked with families facing threats and domestic violence.
It wasn't luxurious.
There were no marble floors, gold-framed mirrors, or expensive paintings.
Just clean rooms, sturdy locks, and people who spoke to my daughter gently.
It felt more like home than the cottage ever had.
Bruno came with us after Dante formally authorized his temporary care.
When the dog entered the apartment, Sophie immediately placed her star pillow on the couch.
“That's your spot,” she told him.
Bruno climbed halfway onto the cushion before deciding the floor was more comfortable.
Sophie laughed.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear that sound.
That evening, Reyes returned with an update.
Investigators had confirmed that Sophie's trust account was controlled through a network of companies linked to Victor Cross.
Someone had created an apparent financial connection between my daughter and money stolen from Harbor House.
I felt sick.
“Could they blame her?”
“She's five,” Reyes said firmly. “Our concern is identifying who used her name and why.”
“What if they come after us?”
“That's why you're here.”
She paused.
“There's one other detail. Your husband's records indicate the account wasn't supposed to be an inheritance.”
“Then what was it?”
“A holding account. The money was supposed to be moved again.”
“To where?”
“We haven't established that yet.”
After she left, I helped Sophie brush her teeth.
Then I tucked her into bed.
Bruno settled beside the door, keeping his amber eyes trained on the hallway.
“Mommy?” Sophie whispered.
“Yes, baby?”
“Did Daddy leave me all that money?”
I sat beside her.
“Sweetheart, the money isn't ours. Some people put your name on papers without asking us.”
She frowned.
“That's not nice.”
“No, it isn't.”
She thought for a moment.
“Daddy always said we shouldn't take things that belong to somebody else.”
I kissed her forehead.
“He was right.”
Sophie reached for her yellow pillow.
Then she looked at me with sudden seriousness.
“Mommy, I forgot to tell you something.”
My heart sank.
“What is it?”
“The bad man had a shiny ring.”
I went still.
“What kind of ring?”
She pointed toward her own finger.
“It had a black stone. He tapped it against my window.”
I remembered the gold ring in Dante's hand.
The black stone.
The Moretti family crest.
I forced my voice to remain calm.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?”
She nodded.
“And when he saw Bruno, he ran funny.”
“What do you mean?”
“One leg was stiff.”
I slowly stood.
Gabriel had told us that Luca had suffered a leg injury years earlier.
I walked toward the living room to call Reyes.
Before I reached my phone, a notification appeared on its screen.
Unknown number.
An image attachment.
My breath caught.
It was a photograph of Sophie sleeping in the protected apartment.
Taken from somewhere outside the window.
May you like
Beneath it were six words.
YOU CHANGED THE HOUSE. NOT THE GAME.
