Chương 15
“What?”
I turned the phone toward her.
She read the messages and stopped stirring pancake batter.
“No.”
“That was my reaction.”
“No, I mean actually no.”
“Very helpful.”
“Anna, you do payroll audits.”
“Compliance.”
“You correct expense reports.”
“Among other things.”
“And this dead billionaire apparently appointed you heir to the Death Star?”
“Successor.”
“That is not better.”
Lily looked up from the table.
“What’s a successor?”
“A person who comes after someone else,” I said.
“Like second place?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you win something?”
“No.”
Serena pointed the spoon at me.
“Do not answer unknown succession messages while your child is eating pancakes.”
“That is weirdly specific advice.”
“Today requires specificity.”
I saved screenshots and did not respond.
At eight fifteen Dominic sent the address of a law office in Midtown.
The attorney was named Rachel Stein.
I searched her before leaving.
She specialized in corporate investigations, fiduciary disputes, and whistleblower retaliation.
More importantly, her website listed no Moretti Group affiliation.
At nine exactly, Serena drove us to Manhattan because she refused to let me take the subway and insulted my judgment until I surrendered.
Lily stayed with her.
Dominic was already in Rachel’s conference room when I arrived.
He stood when I entered.
No entourage.
No Marco.
No dark coat hanging ominously behind him.
Just Dominic in yesterday’s suit with no tie and a paper coffee cup he had apparently forgotten to drink.
“You look terrible,” I said.
He glanced at me.
“So I’ve been told.”
Rachel Stein was fifty-something, silver-haired, compact, and unimpressed by either of us.
“Phones on the table.”
Dominic obeyed first.
I followed.
Rachel slid two signal-blocking pouches toward us.
“Inside.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“You expect espionage?”
“I expect wealthy people to underestimate boring precautions.”
I liked her immediately.
I placed my phone inside.
Then I removed Vincent’s agreement from my bag.
Dominic looked at it but did not reach.
Good.
Rachel put on gloves.
“Original?”
“Yes.”
“You kept it folded in a shoebox for eleven years?”
“Yes.”
She examined the creases.
“I’ve seen worse.”
“That is comforting.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
Dominic almost smiled.
Rachel read the agreement slowly.
When she reached SP-17, her expression changed.
“Who contacted you this morning?”
“A number linked in a spreadsheet to Martin Reese.”
She looked at Dominic.
“Your father’s attorney.”
“Yes.”
“Former attorney?”
“He resigned.”
Rachel returned to me.
“What did the message say?”
I told her.
Dominic stared at the tabletop when I reached the final sentence.
“He named Anna?”
“That is what the message claims.”
His jaw tightened.
Rachel noticed.
“So you didn’t know.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Dominic looked up sharply.
“Good?”
“If you were pretending surprise, I’d have a harder morning.”
She opened her laptop.
“I located Martin Reese forty minutes ago.”
My pulse jumped.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“Alive?”
Rachel looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“No need.”
“Will he speak to us?”
“He’ll speak to Anna.”
Dominic leaned back.
“Of course.”
Rachel’s eyes flicked toward him.
“You sound offended.”
“I’m becoming accustomed to dead men excluding me from meetings.”
“He is not dead.”
“My father is.”
Nobody answered that.
Rachel called Martin from a conference speaker.
He answered on the third ring.
“Ms. Stein.”
“I’m here with Anna Carter.”
Silence.
Then a man’s tired voice said, “Anna.”
I had expected something dramatic.
Instead he sounded old.
Not frail.
Simply worn down.
“Did you send me those messages?”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
“Because Janet’s release protocol activated.”
“The spreadsheet?”
“Yes.”
“Janet Mercer made it?”
“She and I did.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Martin.”
Another silence.
“Dominic.”
“You might have called me sometime in the last three years.”
“I considered it.”
“And?”
“I did not trust what surrounded you.”
The words landed harder than accusation.
Dominic’s face became unreadable.
Rachel intervened.
“Martin, explain SP-17.”
He breathed out.
“Vincent discovered the vendor fraud was larger than Anna’s original report.”
“How large?” I asked.
“By the end, we estimated between fourteen and eighteen million dollars in improper payments, inflated contracts, and diverted rebates.”
My stomach tightened.
“Harbor Lane?”
“One vehicle among several.”
“Dawson Pike?”
“Partly.”
“Elliot?”
“Yes.”
Dominic said, “Why wasn’t he prosecuted?”
“Because Vincent wanted proof that would survive scrutiny.”
“And he died before you had it.”
“Yes.”
Martin paused.
“He also made a mistake.”
“What mistake?” I asked.
“He believed he could keep the investigation inside the company.”
That sounded painfully plausible.
“Where do I come into this?”
“Your work created the first reliable map.”
“I gave him a preliminary report.”
“It was enough to save Moretti Holdings several million dollars in suspended contracts and renegotiated terms.”
“And SP-17?”
“Vincent created a compensation and protection structure for you.”
I looked at Dominic.
He did not move.
Martin continued.
“He did not appoint you chief executive.”
Serena would have been relieved.
“He appointed you successor trustee for a specific recovery trust connected to the fraud investigation.”
I stared at the speaker.
“Trustee?”
“Yes.”
“Not owner?”
“No.”
“Then what did those messages mean?”
“Vincent named you successor to his authority over that trust.”
Dominic’s shoulders eased almost imperceptibly.
“What does the trust control?” I asked.
“Recovered funds and claims tied to the vendor investigation.”
“How much?”
“Currently just over eleven million dollars.”
My chair seemed to become smaller beneath me.
“That money is mine?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
“Most of it belongs to Moretti entities that were defrauded.”
I breathed again.
“Then why put me in charge?”
“Because Vincent no longer trusted company management to decide whether to pursue recovery.”
Dominic gave a humorless laugh.
“That sounds like him.”
Martin continued.
“The trust also includes a whistleblower award.”
My throat tightened.
“How much?”
“Five percent of recovered value attributable to your original findings, subject to final accounting.”
I did the arithmetic and wished I hadn’t.
“That could be hundreds of thousands.”
“Yes.”
I looked down at my hands.
Nine days earlier I had been calculating whether I could postpone the electric bill.
May you like
The number did not feel real enough to relieve anything.
Rachel said, “Why did Elliot sign Anna’s employment agreement?”
