Chapter 6 - VITTORIO VITALI HAD KEPT ONE SECRET FROM HIS OWN SON
Alessandro’s father was still alive.
That surprised people who only knew the tabloids.
Vittorio Vitali, seventy-one, had suffered a stroke eighteen months earlier and stepped back from daily operations.
Alessandro visited him twice a week.
Three days after the independent investigation began, Vittorio asked to see me.
I refused.
Then changed my mind.
Not at his mansion.
At his rehabilitation residence.
My attorney came.
Alessandro stayed outside the room.
Vittorio looked smaller than photographs.
Still sharp.
When I introduced myself as Elizabeth Monroe, his hand stopped moving.
“I knew your father.”
“I know.”
His speech was slower after the stroke.
“He was… a good auditor.”
“Then why did you fire him?”
His face tightened.
“Because evidence said he stole from me.”
“He said it was fabricated.”
“I did not believe him.”
I laid one photocopied memo on the table.
Vittorio read it.
His face changed.
“I never saw this.”
“Your name is on the routing line.”
“I never saw it.”
Maybe true.
Maybe not.
Then he asked:
“Where did you get this?”
“My father kept copies.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
“Luca.”
Again.
Too fast.
I said:
“Why do you keep saying his name?”
He looked toward the window.
Then told me something Alessandro did not know.
Twelve years earlier, Luca Vitali had enormous gambling debts and undisclosed investments in medical-property developments.
Vittorio discovered part of it after Daniel Monroe was fired.
But by then, Daniel had been publicly destroyed.
Vittorio confronted Luca.
Luca denied stealing foundation money.
Vittorio accepted repayment on unrelated transactions and buried the family conflict.
“Why?”
I whispered.
His eyes filled.
“He was my brother.”
I stared.
“My father was somebody’s husband.”
Silence.
“Somebody’s father.”
Vittorio looked away.
“I know.”
“No.”
“You know now.”
That landed.
Then he admitted something worse.
He had started doubting Daniel’s guilt years earlier.
He never reopened the case publicly because doing so would expose Vitali governance failures and possibly implicate his brother.
Reputation.
Again.
My father lost his.
They protected theirs.
I stood.
Vittorio whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
I turned.
“That is not the same as repairing it.”
“No.”
“It isn’t.”
Good.
At least he knew.
Outside, Alessandro was waiting.
His father had requested that he hear everything afterward.
When I told him, Alessandro went completely silent.
Then:
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
“For years?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro walked away.
Stopped at the end of the corridor.
His shoulders rose once.
Then fell.
I almost followed.
Didn’t.
This was his family grief.
Not mine to manage.
Ten minutes later he returned.
“My father wants to issue a statement.”
“Not yet.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I want the audit finished first.”
“You don’t want immediate vindication?”
“I want accurate vindication.”
My father had been destroyed by conclusions reached too quickly.
I would not clear him using the same method.
Alessandro stared at me.
Then smiled sadly.
“Your father raised a forensic accountant.”
May you like
“He complained about it constantly.”
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