Chapter 4 - PAUL VESCARI’S DEFENSE
Vescari denied stealing at first.
Then blamed accounting.
Then blamed Renzo.
Then blamed employees.
Finally, through counsel, he blamed Vincent.
That was the defense that hurt most.
The estate had always operated through fear.
Vescari simply “formalized expectations.”
Vincent’s reputation supposedly required strict discipline.
Employees understood that mistakes had consequences.
The funds moved to Vescari-related companies, he claimed, because those companies provided administrative services.
Some actually had.
That made the accounting more complicated.
It did not make the undisclosed profit acceptable.
Civil claims followed.
Authorities became involved where employment and financial laws potentially applied.
Vincent did not handle Vescari in a basement.
No disappearance.
No mysterious accident.
I know because several employees expected exactly that.
One evening, I was cleaning the library when Renzo walked in.
“Have you seen Vincent?”
“No.”
“He’s supposed to be in a meeting.”
I hesitated.
“Is he angry?”
Renzo laughed softly.
“When is he not?”
Then he saw my face.
“You think he’s going after Paul.”
I said nothing.
Renzo leaned against the bookshelf.
“He isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because his lawyer took his car keys.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Metaphorically.”
Then:
“Mostly.”
For the first time, I realized keeping Vincent from becoming the man everyone expected required work from the people around him too.
The next morning he returned from a meeting with counsel looking exhausted.
Mia was with me again.
This time legally.
The restored childcare room had not opened yet, but temporary emergency childcare was being provided onsite through an outside service.
Mia was waiting for me near the kitchen.
Vincent passed.
She looked at him.
“Wrinkle man.”
I nearly dropped a tray.
He stopped.
“Nora.”
“I am so sorry.”
“No.”
He pointed toward Mia.
“We need to establish professional boundaries.”
Mia folded her arms.
Vincent folded his.
She narrowed her eyes.
He narrowed his.
Renzo walked around the corner.
He immediately turned around again.
Coward.
Mia said:
“You’re doing the face.”
Vincent stopped.
Then sighed.
“What face should I do?”
She smiled as wide as possible.
Vincent attempted it.
It looked terrifying.
Mia screamed with laughter.
Even I laughed.
Vincent stared at us.
Then, slowly, his actual smile appeared.
Not large.
Not polished.
Real.
That was somehow stranger than the death stare.
Mia pointed.
“That one.”
Vincent’s smile vanished instantly.
“Meeting over.”
May you like
She laughed harder.
---
