Chapter 3 - THE LETTER THAT NEVER CAME
The letter had been in my safe for seven years.
I had never thrown it away.
That surprised Elena.
“You kept it?”
“I hated you.”
“That usually encourages disposal.”
“I wanted evidence that I had been stupid.”
She stared.
Then:
“You’re emotionally healthy.”
“Thank you.”
We compared the handwriting.
At first glance, perfect.
Then Elena noticed something.
“My lowercase r.”
“What?”
“I never close it like that.”
I looked.
She was right.
The letter was a professional forgery.
Dominic had access to correspondence Elena completed for Moretti Shipping.
Plenty of handwriting samples.
Plenty of opportunity.
Marco began reviewing old security logs.
Most no longer existed.
But accounting archives were better.
Seven years earlier, a private security company owned by Dominic billed my organization for “communications replacement” during the exact three days Elena tried calling me.
My phone hadn’t malfunctioned.
It had been isolated.
Then Marco found an old receptionist.
Mrs. Caruso.
Seventy-four.
Retired.
Terrified when we visited.
She remembered Elena.
“She came crying.”
“What happened?”
“Mr. Dominic told me not to let her upstairs.”
My hands clenched.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He said she was trying to trap you with a pregnancy.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Mrs. Caruso continued.
“He said the child wasn’t yours.”
I felt sick.
Dominic had constructed different lies for everyone.
To Elena:
Roman will die if you stay.
To me:
Elena left.
To employees:
Elena was trying to manipulate Roman.
Perfect isolation.
Then Mrs. Caruso said:
“She left an envelope.”
I stopped.
“What envelope?”
“For you.”
Elena looked up.
“What?”
“I gave it to Mr. Dominic because he said he would personally deliver it.”
The real letter.
Pregnancy.
Evidence.
Everything.
Dominic had taken it.
“Do you know what happened to it?”
Mrs. Caruso shook her head.
Marco searched Dominic’s old office storage.
Nothing.
Then Elena remembered something.
“The copy.”
She had typed part of the letter on a library computer.
Saved it to a cheap USB drive.
The drive might still be in storage with her mother’s things.
We found it.
The letter destroyed me.
Roman,
I don’t know how to say this without shaking.
I’m pregnant.
I’m scared, but I’m also happy, and I need to tell you something else before I can decide what comes next.
There is money missing from the employee pension accounts.
I found transfers approved under Dominic’s authorization.
Please don’t confront him until we speak.
I think he knows I found it.
Then:
I love you.
I never stopped.
I sat alone in the storage unit holding a letter I should have read seven years earlier.
Elena stood several feet away.
“I waited.”
I looked up.
“For how long?”
“At the bus station.”
My chest tightened.
“Dominic told me if I was still in New York by midnight, he would make sure you were attacked.”
I closed my eyes.
“I waited until eleven-forty anyway.”
“Why?”
“I thought you might come.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
“I was gambling in Atlantic City with men I hated.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“Roman.”
“I should have known something was wrong.”
She crossed the space between us.
For the first time, she touched my hand.
“You cannot solve seven years ago by punishing yourself today.”
I looked at her.
“You learned that somewhere?”
“Cancer therapy.”
“Expensive wisdom.”
“Very.”
I laughed once.
It felt strange.
Then Marco entered.
“Boss.”
His expression killed the moment.
“What?”
“We found the pension accounts.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight million.”
Elena stared.
“Twenty-eight?”
“Over twelve years.”
Dominic had not stopped when Elena disappeared.
He expanded.
Shell consulting firms.
Fake investment-management fees.
Property companies.
Money removed from retirement accounts belonging to dockworkers, drivers, warehouse employees.
People who trusted my family with their futures.
My father may not have known.
I certainly hadn’t.
But the Moretti name sat above every statement.
That made it my responsibility now.
Then Marco added:
“There’s another account.”
“What?”
“Payments to two men connected to your father’s death.”
Silence.
My father had been killed in a parking garage eight years earlier.
Everyone blamed a rival crew.
War nearly followed.
Dominic argued against retaliation.
He told me bloodshed would destroy us.
At the time, I believed his restraint saved lives.
Now?
Maybe he was preventing investigation.
“Dates?”
“Three transfers before the murder.”
My hands went cold.
“After?”
“Six.”
Elena whispered:
“Roman.”
I stood.
“Get the prosecutors.”
Marco stared.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“This opens everything.”
“I know.”
“Not only Dominic.”
“I know.”
“It could expose us.”
I looked at the pension records.
“At some point, protecting the Moretti name became more important than deserving it.”
Marco said nothing.
“Not anymore.”
That evening, I returned to the hospital.
Sofia was awake.
She had drawn a picture.
Three people.
Elena.
Sofia.
Me.
I was enormous.
“You made me too tall.”
“You are too tall.”
Fair.
Then I noticed something in the corner.
A small yellow figure.
“What’s that?”
“That’s me saving you.”
My throat tightened.
She pointed.
“Mommy says people are supposed to help when someone falls.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t the grown-ups?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
“Sometimes adults are scared.”
“Were they scared of you?”
Probably.
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“That’s silly.”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Then she handed me the drawing.
“You can keep it.”
I had received watches worth more than buildings.
May you like
Nothing had ever felt that expensive.
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