Chapter 7 - THE GIRL THEY TRIED TO DESTROY
By noon, my face was everywhere.
News websites.
Social media.
Television clips.
Some people called me brave.
Others called me a liar.
A few insisted I was Lorenzo Moretti's secret girlfriend.
That last accusation was particularly irritating because I hadn't even been on a date in fourteen months.
Beatrice's statement described me as a financially desperate employee who had supposedly accepted money to embarrass her.
She mentioned my overdue rent.
My brother's medical expenses.
Even the neighborhood where we lived.
I stared at the television.
“She investigated my family.”
Lorenzo stood beside me.
His expression was dark.
“I'm sorry.”
I shook my head.
“She knows exactly what she's doing.”
The next day, my former landlord called.
He claimed reporters were disturbing other tenants.
Then my old staffing agency sent a letter suggesting I had damaged its reputation.
I felt as though the ground were disappearing beneath me.
I found Isabella in the garden.
She was pruning roses.
When she saw my face, she put down the shears.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I began crying before I reached her.
She hugged me.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered, “Maybe I should've kept walking that night.”
Isabella pulled back.
She looked directly into my eyes.
“No.”
“But everything got worse.”
“For whom?”
I stared.
She continued, “For the people who were stealing from sick children?”
I lowered my eyes.
“For you. For Toby. For Lorenzo.”
Isabella took my hands.
“Sophie, the person who exposes cruelty isn't responsible for the cruelty.”
That evening, Lorenzo asked me to meet him in the library.
I expected another discussion about security.
Instead, he handed me a folder.
Inside was an offer for a temporary administrative position with the foundation's independent review team.
I stared.
“What is this?”
“A job.”
I looked up.
“Lorenzo.”
“Before you say no, read it.”
The position involved organizing correspondence from affected families, identifying missing application records, and helping direct people toward legitimate assistance channels.
The salary was reasonable.
The reporting line went through an independent nonprofit administrator, not Lorenzo.
I looked at him.
“You arranged this?”
“I suggested your name. They interviewed your former supervisor and reviewed your experience.”
I frowned.
“My former supervisor fired me.”
“She also told them you were the most reliable person on her team.”
I stared.
He smiled faintly.
“People are complicated.”
I read the offer again.
It was work I could do.
Work that mattered.
But I was afraid.
“What if people say you bought my loyalty?”
Lorenzo sat across from me.
“Then we'll make sure the hiring process is documented and transparent.”
I looked at him.
“Why are you doing this?”
He hesitated.
Then said, “Because you deserve an opportunity that doesn't depend on whether someone powerful likes you.”
I accepted after meeting the independent administrator.
For the first time in years, I had a job with regular hours.
And health benefits.
When I told Toby, he hugged me so hard I nearly fell over.
Three days later, investigators announced that the foundation's records were being examined in connection with suspected financial misconduct.
Beatrice's lawyers denied wrongdoing.
Senator Vane called the inquiry politically motivated.
But Grace Holloway's testimony and the preserved documents gave investigators a substantial trail to follow.
That night, Lorenzo invited me to dinner.
Just the two of us.
I stared.
“Is this a business meeting?”
He smiled.
“No.”
“A foundation meeting?”
“No.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
For the first time since I'd met him, Lorenzo Moretti looked nervous.
“Yes.”
May you like
I smiled.
“Then you should've started with that.”
