Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO STOLE FROM THE POOR
Margaret Whitmore had served the Bellucci family for twenty-two years.
She knew every corridor.
Every locked room.
Every household secret.
She also knew how to make frightened employees obey.
For years, she had quietly redirected money from the staff assistance fund.
Small amounts at first.
Then larger ones.
She told herself she deserved it.
She had spent decades managing the estate.
Keeping secrets.
Protecting the Bellucci reputation.
Why shouldn't she be rewarded?
But the money had attracted attention.
Not from Damian.
From a man named Vincent Caruso.
Vincent managed several outside contracts for Bellucci shipping operations.
He was charming.
Expensive.
And deeply dishonest.
Three years earlier, he'd discovered Margaret's scheme.
Instead of exposing her, he'd offered a partnership.
She would move money through household vendor accounts.
He would help conceal the transfers.
Together, they'd become wealthy.
It had worked.
Until Damian opened Elena Parker's file.
Now Margaret sat in her office staring at a financial report.
Her hands trembled.
The telephone rang.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Vincent's voice came through.
“We have a problem.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“Bellucci's people are reviewing the accounts.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Find out what they know.”
Margaret swallowed.
“And if they find everything?”
Vincent was silent.
Then he said, “Make sure they don't.”
The line went dead.
Margaret stared at the receiver.
For the first time, she understood she'd become disposable.
That evening, she entered the staff block.
Elena's room was empty.
Lily was staying temporarily with Mrs. Alvarez while Elena recovered.
Margaret opened a drawer.
Then another.
She searched for anything that might connect Elena to Damian's investigation.
Instead, she found a notebook.
Inside were handwritten records.
Dates.
Hours worked.
Payroll deductions.
Medical expenses.
And copies of requests Elena had submitted for assistance.
Margaret went cold.
Elena had kept everything.
Every deduction.
Every denied request.
Every discrepancy.
Margaret's hands began shaking.
She tore out several pages.
Then stopped.
A voice spoke from the doorway.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
She turned.
Marco Romano stood there.
His expression was unreadable.
“What are you doing?”
Margaret straightened.
“Checking the room.”
“For what?”
“Maintenance concerns.”
Marco looked at the torn pages in her hand.
“Then why are you destroying an employee's records?”
Margaret went pale.
“I can explain.”
May you like
Marco stepped aside.
“Mr. Bellucci would like to hear that explanation.”
