Chapter 3 - His Cousin Tried to Steal the Mafia Empire in Front of the Entire Family—But the Injured Maid Walked Into the Boardroom Holding the One Ledger They FearedThe Moretti family headquarters occupied the top twelve floors of a glass tower overlooking Manhattan.
I had passed the building dozens of times without knowing that my mother had once walked through its doors carrying secrets powerful enough to destroy the men inside.
Now I stood in its private elevator beside Luca Moretti.
The original ledger rested inside a locked briefcase.
My mother's letter was tucked safely into my coat.
And my knees hurt so badly that every small movement reminded me of Vanessa Bellini.
Luca noticed.
"You should be resting."
"You've mentioned that."
"Several times."
"At least twelve."
He looked at me.
I looked back.
For a second, his mouth almost curved into a smile.
Then the elevator chimed.
The doors opened.
And every trace of warmth disappeared from his face.
Marco stepped out first.
Two security officers followed.
Luca offered me his arm.
I hesitated.
"People will talk."
"They already do."
"They'll say I'm your mistress."
"Then they'll be wrong."
I studied him.
He continued quietly, "You're here because you have a right to be."
I took his arm.
We walked toward the boardroom.
Through the glass walls, I could see a dozen men and women seated around a long table.
At its head stood Matteo Moretti.
Beside him sat Vanessa.
She wore a white designer suit.
Her blonde hair was perfectly arranged.
A large diamond necklace rested against her throat.
She looked nothing like a woman whose engagement had ended the night before.
She looked victorious.
Until the doors opened.
Luca entered.
The entire room went silent.
Matteo's smile disappeared.
Vanessa stood so abruptly that her chair scraped against the floor.
"Luca."
He ignored her.
His eyes moved across the table.
"Who authorized this meeting?"
An older man with silver hair cleared his throat.
"Matteo presented an emergency petition."
"On what grounds?"
"Concerns regarding your judgment."
Luca glanced toward Vanessa.
"Interesting."
Matteo recovered.
"Cousin, I'm glad you're here. We were worried."
"About me?"
"Of course."
Luca placed his hands on the back of an empty chair.
"Then explain why you filed a petition to remove me from my mother's trust."
Matteo adjusted his tie.
"Temporary oversight. Nothing more."
"Temporary."
"Until certain irregularities can be investigated."
Luca nodded slowly.
"Which irregularities?"
Matteo lifted a folder.
"Unauthorized withdrawals. Mismanagement of charitable assets. Possible coercion by outside parties."
His eyes moved toward me.
I felt the room's attention shift.
Vanessa smiled.
"There she is."
Luca didn't move.
Vanessa continued.
"The maid who stole confidential documents from my private rooms."
My cheeks burned.
"That's not what happened."
Vanessa laughed.
"Sweetheart, nobody asked you."
Luca's voice cut through the room.
"I did."
She turned toward him.
He looked at me.
"Emma, tell them."
My heart hammered.
I had spent years avoiding confrontation.
Now I stood before some of the wealthiest and most dangerous people in New York.
Every instinct told me to lower my eyes.
But I remembered my mother's letter.
You were never powerless.
You were simply kept in the dark.
I lifted my chin.
"Yesterday afternoon, I entered Vanessa's dressing room with clean towels. I found her with Matteo. They were discussing trust documents and a transfer scheduled before the wedding."
Matteo scoffed.
"Ridiculous."
I continued.
"Vanessa pushed me into a broken glass display after she realized I'd overheard them."
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"She fell."
"Then why didn't you call for medical help?"
The question came from a woman near the far end of the table.
She was perhaps sixty, with dark gray hair and a severe expression.
Luca looked toward her.
"Aunt Sofia."
Sofia Moretti folded her hands.
"I asked Vanessa a question."
Vanessa hesitated.
"I didn't realize she was seriously hurt."
Sofia's gaze moved to the bandages visible beneath my skirt.
"Apparently."
Matteo slammed his folder onto the table.
"This is irrelevant. We're here to discuss Luca's competence."
"Then discuss it," Luca said.
Matteo smiled thinly.
"Gladly."
He opened the folder.
"Three weeks ago, Luca authorized a transfer of eighteen million dollars from the Isabella Moretti Foundation into a private holding account."
A murmur swept through the room.
Luca frowned.
"I authorized no such transfer."
Matteo slid a document across the table.
"Your signature says otherwise."
Luca examined it.
Then laughed.
The sound was quiet and unpleasant.
"You forged my signature."
Matteo spread his hands.
"That's a serious accusation."
"Yes."
Luca turned toward Marco.
"Bring in Ms. Price."
The boardroom doors opened.
An elegant woman in a navy suit entered carrying a leather portfolio.
She was in her late sixties, with silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
I recognized her voice immediately.
"Evelyn?"
She turned toward me.
Her expression softened.
"Emma."
I stepped forward.
"You came."
"I promised your mother I would."
Vanessa's face went white.
Matteo stood.
"What is she doing here?"
Luca pulled out a chair.
"Evelyn Price is the original legal counsel for the Isabella Moretti Family Trust."
Evelyn sat.
She opened her portfolio.
"And I am here to explain why this emergency meeting has no legal authority to remove Luca Moretti."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"You're retired."
"From private practice," Evelyn replied. "Not from knowing the law."
Several board members exchanged glances.
Evelyn removed a document.
"The trust contains an independent beneficiary protection clause. Any attempted removal of the primary trustee requires approval from all protected beneficiaries or a court order."
Matteo frowned.
"There are only two beneficiaries."
Evelyn looked at him.
"Incorrect."
She turned the document toward the table.
"Three."
A stunned silence followed.
Vanessa whispered, "No."
Evelyn continued.
"Luca Moretti. Matteo Moretti. And Emma Sullivan."
Every eye turned toward me.
I felt dizzy.
Matteo laughed harshly.
"That's impossible."
"Is it?" Evelyn asked.
"She's a maid."
"Her employment is irrelevant."
"She has no blood connection to this family."
"Neither does Vanessa Bellini."
Sofia Moretti made a small sound that might have been amusement.
Vanessa glared at her.
Evelyn continued.
"Isabella established Emma's interest as recognition of Margaret Sullivan's work protecting the family's legitimate assets."
Matteo leaned forward.
"How much?"
Evelyn met his eyes.
"Enough to make her consent essential."
I stared at her.
"How much?" I repeated.
Evelyn hesitated.
"Under the original allocation, your interest was valued at approximately twenty-four million dollars."
The room tilted.
Twenty-four million.
I thought of my father's medical bills.
My overdue rent.
The nights I'd eaten instant noodles because groceries were too expensive.
My mother had known?
Or had she?
I gripped the chair.
Luca stepped closer.
"Emma?"
"I'm okay."
I wasn't.
But I refused to collapse in front of Vanessa.
Matteo recovered.
"Fine. Then she can sign a waiver."
Evelyn smiled.
"She can. Voluntarily. After independent legal advice."
Vanessa stood.
"Emma, darling, surely you understand this is all a misunderstanding."
I stared at her.
Less than twenty-four hours earlier, she'd ordered me to kneel on bleeding knees.
Now she called me darling.
I almost laughed.
"No."
Her smile tightened.
"No?"
"I don't understand how you can look at me and pretend you haven't spent months treating me like garbage."
Several people shifted uncomfortably.
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
"You ungrateful little—"
"Finish that sentence," Luca said softly.
She stopped.
Evelyn opened another folder.
"There's more."
Matteo's expression changed.
"Enough."
"No," Evelyn replied. "Not nearly."
She removed several pages from the original ledger.
"These records show repeated transfers from the Isabella Moretti Foundation into shell companies controlled by Antonio Moretti and, later, Matteo Moretti."
Matteo went rigid.
"Those are fabricated."
"Then you won't object to independent forensic examination."
Luca leaned against the table.
"Or federal review."
Matteo stared at him.
"You'd bring federal investigators into family business?"
Luca's expression hardened.
"I'll bring anyone necessary to find out who murdered my mother."
The room exploded into voices.
Sofia stood.
"Silence!"
The authority in her voice surprised everyone.
She looked at Luca.
"What did you say?"
Luca opened the briefcase.
He removed the ledger.
"My mother believed someone was stealing from her trust. She documented the transfers with Margaret Sullivan's help. Shortly afterward, she died in a car accident."
Sofia's face drained.
"And you think Antonio—"
"I think the evidence deserves examination."
Matteo stepped backward.
"This is insane."
Luca looked at him.
"Then you have nothing to fear."
Matteo's phone vibrated.
He glanced down.
His expression changed.
I noticed.
So did Luca.
"Who is it?" Luca asked.
"Nobody."
"Show me."
Matteo slipped the phone into his pocket.
"You're not my father."
"No," Luca replied. "And judging by these records, that's fortunate."
Matteo's face twisted.
He lunged toward the briefcase.
Marco intercepted him.
A chair crashed backward.
Vanessa screamed.
Two guards moved.
Matteo struggled.
"Get your hands off me!"
Luca didn't raise his voice.
"Take him downstairs."
Matteo stopped fighting.
Then he smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
"You think you've won?"
Luca stared at him.
Matteo leaned closer.
"You still don't know what happened to Isabella."
The room became silent.
Luca's eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?"
Matteo laughed.
"You've spent eight years blaming the wrong man."
Luca stepped forward.
"Who killed my mother?"
Matteo's smile widened.
"Ask the woman standing beside you."
Everyone turned.
Toward me.
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
Matteo nodded toward the ledger.
"Ask Emma what Margaret Sullivan really did the night Isabella died."
I shook my head.
"My mother had nothing to do with—"
"Didn't she?"
Matteo's voice sharpened.
"Your mother was driving the second car."
I froze.
Luca turned toward me.
I stared at him.
"I don't know what he's talking about."
Matteo laughed again.
"Of course you don't."
He looked at Luca.
"Your precious maid's mother was the last person to see Isabella alive."
The accusation followed me long after the meeting ended.
Evelyn insisted Matteo's statement was a deliberate attempt to distract everyone from the financial evidence.
Luca agreed.
But something had changed.
I could see it in the way he stared at the old photograph of our mothers.
And I could feel it in the silence between us during the drive back to the estate.
Finally, I spoke.
"Do you believe him?"
Luca turned.
"No."
"You hesitated."
"I was thinking."
"About whether my mother killed yours?"
His jaw tightened.
"Emma."
"Just answer."
He looked directly at me.
"I don't believe Margaret murdered my mother."
I searched his face.
"Then what are you thinking?"
"That Matteo knows something about that night."
I looked toward the city passing outside.
"Maybe my mother was there."
"Possibly."
"Maybe she saw something."
"That's what I intend to discover."
I folded my arms.
"I want to help."
"You already have."
"That's not what I mean."
Luca was quiet.
Then he said, "There's something else you should know."
I turned.
"What?"
"The board meeting wasn't Matteo's only move."
My stomach tightened.
"What else?"
"Three of our legitimate companies received notices this morning claiming their ownership has been transferred to Bellini Holdings."
"Vanessa's family?"
"Yes."
"Can she do that?"
"Not legally. But fraudulent filings can cause damage before they're overturned."
I stared at him.
"So she's stealing your businesses?"
"Trying."
"And Matteo?"
"Helping."
I thought about Vanessa's diamond necklace.
Her expensive gowns.
Her cruel smile.
"She never loved you."
Luca looked away.
"No."
The simplicity of his answer hurt more than I expected.
"Did you love her?"
He remained silent.
Then said, "I thought marriage could create peace between our families."
"That's not what I asked."
He looked at me.
"No, Emma. I didn't love her."
Something shifted inside my chest.
I quickly looked away.
He noticed.
But he didn't say anything.
That evening, Evelyn arrived at the mansion with two boxes of archived records.
We gathered in Luca's study.
Marco stood near the door.
A forensic accountant named Rachel Chen examined the ledger.
And I sat beside Evelyn, reading documents my mother had helped prepare.
At eight forty-seven, Rachel looked up.
"I found something."
Luca approached.
"What?"
"Several transfers were approved using a signature code assigned to Isabella. But the code was entered after her death."
Luca went still.
"How long after?"
"Six weeks."
Evelyn frowned.
"That's impossible."
Rachel turned the screen.
"Unless someone retained access."
Luca studied the records.
"Who?"
Rachel hesitated.
"The secondary authorization belonged to Antonio Moretti."
Matteo's father.
My pulse accelerated.
"That proves he stole the money."
"It proves unauthorized activity," Rachel corrected. "We still need to establish who controlled the account."
She clicked another file.
"There's something else."
A scanned photograph appeared.
It showed a damaged black sedan.
The front bumper was crushed.
The license plate was partially visible.
I leaned forward.
My heart stopped.
"I know that car."
Luca turned.
"What?"
"That's my mother's car."
Rachel enlarged the image.
I stared at the dented hood.
The broken headlight.
The faded sticker on the rear window.
I remembered that sticker.
A yellow sunflower.
I'd put it there when I was nine.
My hands began shaking.
"Why is her car in these records?"
Rachel looked at Luca.
"Because this photograph was attached to the insurance investigation into Isabella Moretti's death."
Silence.
Luca stared at the screen.
"Was Margaret involved in the collision?"
Rachel shook her head.
"According to the report, her car was found abandoned two miles from the accident."
I covered my mouth.
Luca moved closer.
"Emma."
I couldn't speak.
Rachel continued.
"The original police report lists Margaret Sullivan as a potential witness. But her statement was removed from the final file."
Evelyn stood abruptly.
"Removed by whom?"
Rachel scrolled.
"Detective Harold Pierce."
Luca's expression changed.
"Pierce."
Marco looked toward him.
"You know him?"
Luca nodded.
"He retired six years ago."
"Where is he now?"
"Florida."
Rachel looked up.
"Not anymore."
She turned the laptop.
A recent public record appeared.
Harold Pierce had returned to New York three days earlier.
And checked into the Langford Hotel.
Room 512.
The same room Vanessa and Matteo had used.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
Luca stared at the screen.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
"Luca Moretti?"
"Who's calling?"
"Detective Mara Ellis, NYPD Major Case Squad."
His expression sharpened.
"What can I do for you?"
"We need to speak about Isabella Moretti's death."
Luca stood.
"Why now?"
A pause.
"Because a retired detective named Harold Pierce was found dead this afternoon."
My heart stopped.
Luca's voice became cold.
"Where?"
"The Langford Hotel."
Another pause.
"Room 512."
I stared at him.
The hotel room.
The photographs.
The ledger.
The missing statement.
And now a dead detective.
Everything was connected.
But before Luca could ask another question, Detective Ellis said something that made his face turn white.
"We found a note in Pierce's pocket."
Luca tightened his grip on the phone.
"What did it say?"
The detective answered.
"Margaret Sullivan didn't cause the accident. She tried to stop it."
Luca looked at me.
And I knew the truth was finally coming.
But the detective wasn't finished.
"There's another line."
Luca whispered, "Read it."
May you like
"Tell Emma that her mother hid the recording in the place where she learned to swim."
END OF CHAPTER 3
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