Chapter 9 - THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE NUMBERS
Twenty-eight million dollars.
I'd heard the amount so many times that it almost stopped sounding real.
But standing outside Harbor House, looking at Lila Morgan's trembling hands, I finally understood what those numbers meant.
They meant unfinished apartments.
Families turned away.
Children sleeping in cars.
Elderly people forced to choose between medicine and rent.
Someone had stolen more than money.
They'd stolen time.
Hope.
Second chances.
And Michael had died trying to stop them.
Agent Reyes and her team moved quickly to preserve the newly discovered evidence and pursue restrictions on the remaining funds.
But financial crimes didn't become simple just because someone found a notebook.
The transactions crossed several companies and multiple bank accounts.
Some of the money had already disappeared.
Some was sitting in accounts controlled by nominees and business partners.
And some was tied to the eight-million-dollar trust created in Sophie's name.
“Can you stop the transfer?” I asked Reyes.
“We're working with prosecutors and financial institutions to secure the appropriate orders.”
“What if Victor moves it first?”
“Then we'll follow the transactions and pursue the assets. But our priority is preventing further loss.”
I looked toward Lila.
“People have already lost so much.”
Reyes's expression softened.
“I know.”
A few minutes later, Lila approached me carrying an old photograph.
It showed a group of volunteers standing outside Harbor House.
Michael was in the center.
He wore jeans and a blue sweater, smiling as a little boy on crutches stood beside him.
I touched his face in the picture.
“He looks happy.”
“He was,” Lila said.
Then she looked at me.
“Your husband made mistakes, Elena. He told me that himself.”
I raised my head.
“What mistakes?”
Lila hesitated.
“He said he'd signed paperwork he shouldn't have signed. He believed Victor's explanations at first.”
I swallowed.
“Did he steal money?”
“He never told me he took any. He said he'd approved invoices he later discovered were false.”
I stared at Michael's photograph.
He'd never mentioned those invoices.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Lila looked toward the building.
“Shame can make honest people quiet. But your husband didn't stay quiet.”
She squeezed my hand.
“He tried to fix it.”
Her words stayed with me.
I'd spent three years remembering Michael as a wonderful husband and father.
But perhaps I'd also turned him into someone who'd never made a mistake.
The truth was more complicated.
He'd been a human being.
A good man who'd trusted the wrong people.
A frightened man who'd hesitated.
And eventually, a man who'd chosen to tell the truth.
That didn't make his courage smaller.
It made it real.
Around noon, investigators completed an initial review of the most important records.
The original notebook established a connection between Victor's companies and suspicious payments.
It also supported the theory that Luca's security company had received money shortly before Michael's murder.
But one entry troubled me more than the others.
It listed a payment of six hundred thousand dollars to Elena Carter.
My own name.
I stared at Reyes.
“I never received that money.”
“We believe the account was opened using falsified documents.”
“Why keep putting things in my name?”
Reyes leaned forward.
“Because using the identities of uninvolved people can help conceal who actually controls the funds. It can also create misleading records.”
I felt nauseated.
“So if Michael had never left that memory card, someone might have believed I helped steal the money?”
“It could have created serious questions.”
I thought about the years I'd spent cleaning the Moretti mansion.
The paychecks.
The cottage.
The health insurance.
Had Victor been building a paper trail designed to make me look guilty?
Reyes studied the document.
“Elena, do you recognize this account number?”
I shook my head.
“Look at the final four digits.”
I looked again.
Then my breath caught.
They were the last four digits of Michael's old checking account.
The account we'd closed after he died.
“How?”
Reyes nodded grimly.
“Someone used information from his financial records to establish accounts under your identity.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Michael hadn't just been killed.
His identity had been exploited afterward.
And now mine had been used too.
That afternoon, Dante agreed to another formal interview.
He supplied investigators with access to company documents and described how Victor controlled much of the Moretti financial network.
He also admitted that some of the money had flowed through businesses involved in illegal lending.
I watched part of his interview from an adjoining room.
“I benefited from criminal operations,” Dante said. “I won't deny that.”
Reyes asked:
“Did you authorize a payment to Luca Moretti on the night Michael Carter was murdered?”
Dante looked at the document.
“No.”
“Could Victor have made the payment without your knowledge?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante paused.
“Because I gave him too much authority.”
Reyes leaned forward.
“Did you ever consider that your brother and your financial adviser might have been using that authority to commit murder?”
Dante's face tightened.
“I should have.”
I turned away from the window.
I couldn't listen anymore.
Later that evening, Reyes called to say legal action had been initiated to preserve the remaining Harbor House assets.
The immediate transfer was no longer guaranteed to succeed.
For the first time, Victor was losing control of the scheme he'd spent years building.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt dread.
Men like Victor didn't quietly accept losing millions of dollars.
At 8:36 p.m., my phone rang.
Dante's name appeared on the screen.
Reyes had approved limited contact concerning the investigation.
I answered.
“What?”
His voice was strained.
“Luca called me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He wants the original blue notebook.”
“Tell him to ask the FBI.”
“Elena…”
I heard something in Dante's voice.
Fear.
“What happened?”
He took a breath.
“He says my mother is with him.”
I stood so suddenly that my chair fell backward.
“What?”
May you like
Dante's next words came slowly.
“Luca has Teresa. And he says if we don't hand over Michael's records, she won't live to see morning.”
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