Chapter 5 - THE ACCOUNTANT'S LAST NOTEBOOK
Mom loved notebooks.
Not expensive ones.
Ordinary spiral-bound books from the grocery store.
Blue covers.
College-ruled paper.
A little pocket inside the back.
She used them for everything.
Shopping lists.
Household budgets.
Birthday reminders.
Work calculations.
Recipes.
When I was little, Sophie and I used to decorate the covers with stickers.
Mom always laughed.
"Now my financial statements have personality."
After she died, I kept several of her notebooks.
Most were filled with ordinary things.
But one was missing.
A dark green notebook she'd carried during her final months.
I remembered it because she kept it inside her purse instead of leaving it on the kitchen counter.
When I asked why, she said it contained work notes.
I hadn't thought about it in over a year.
Until Alessandro showed me Lucia's photograph.
Mom was holding the green notebook.
I stared.
"That's hers."
Alessandro looked at the picture.
"What?"
"The notebook."
He handed me the photograph.
I pointed.
"She carried that everywhere before she died."
He studied it.
"Do you know where it is?"
I shook my head.
"No."
Then I remembered something.
Mom had taken us to a storage facility shortly before she died.
She said she wanted to clear old files out of our apartment.
At the time, I thought she was simply organizing.
Now I wondered whether she'd hidden something.
Rebecca helped us contact the storage company.
The unit had originally been rented in Mom's name.
After her death, its contents had been transferred to a smaller unit under a family arrangement.
I had forgotten about it.
Ryan hadn't.
He'd once asked whether Mom left anything valuable in storage.
I told him no.
Now I remembered the question differently.
Two days later, Sophie and I visited the facility with authorization and appropriate security arrangements.
The unit smelled of cardboard and old wood.
Inside were three chairs, a sewing machine, Christmas decorations, and several boxes of books.
We searched carefully.
Sophie opened a carton labeled WINTER CLOTHES.
Inside were sweaters.
Scarves.
An old red coat.
And a small wooden box.
She lifted it.
"Elena?"
I turned.
She opened the box.
Inside lay the green notebook.
My heart stopped.
I took it carefully.
Mom's handwriting filled the pages.
At first, ordinary calculations.
Then vendor names.
Invoice references.
Amounts.
Dates.
Some entries were circled in red.
Others had question marks beside them.
On the final pages, she had written:
Payments approved through Bellamy Advisory do not match delivered materials.
Another note:
V. Moretti authorization appears on invoices not reflected in the operating ledger.
Then:
Lucia warned me. She was right.
I stopped breathing.
Sophie looked over my shoulder.
"Lucia?"
"Alessandro's sister."
We turned another page.
Mom had written:
If I cannot resolve this internally, I will report it. Do not let anyone use my daughters to pressure me.
My eyes filled.
Mom had known.
She'd known something was wrong.
And she'd been afraid someone might come after us.
Sophie covered her mouth.
I kept reading.
On the final page was a name.
THOMAS REEVES.
Beneath it:
He has the original invoice copies. Ask him about the September shipment.
I stared.
Thomas Reeves.
Dr. Reeves?
The doctor who occasionally visited the Moretti estate?
I looked at Sophie.
"Do you know this name?"
She shook her head.
"No."
My pulse accelerated.
I called Rebecca.
She instructed us to preserve the notebook and arrange a documented transfer of copies for review.
We followed her advice.
Later that afternoon, I called Alessandro.
He answered immediately.
"Elena?"
"We found Mom's notebook."
Silence.
Then he asked, "Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Good."
I took a breath.
"There's a name inside."
"What name?"
"Thomas Reeves."
A pause.
Then Alessandro said quietly, "Dr. Reeves?"
"I don't know."
He remained silent.
Then asked, "What does the note say?"
I read it.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he whispered, "Elena, I think your mother may have left us a way to understand what happened."
I looked down at the notebook.
Then asked, "What if the truth is worse than we expect?"
Alessandro took a breath.
"Then we face it carefully."
His voice softened.
"And with people who can hold us accountable."
I closed my eyes.
May you like
For the first time, I believed he understood that protecting someone wasn't the same as taking control of their choices.
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