Chapter 3 - The Waitress With the Wrong Last Name
Elena stood so suddenly that her chair struck the wall.
"Don't."
Frank looked at her with quiet sympathy.
"Your father deserves the truth."
"My father is dead."
"That's what they told you."
Alexander watched the color disappear from Elena's face.
"You knew Thomas Bell?"
Frank nodded.
"He worked for the Moretti family before Alexander was old enough to understand what the company really did."
Elena moved toward the window.
"Please stop talking."
Alexander remained seated.
"Elena."
She shook her head.
"I didn't come here for this."
"Then why did you come?"
"To help Isabella."
"Only Isabella?"
Her silence answered him.
Alexander felt a new uncertainty settle over the room.
"Who are you really?"
Elena turned.
"My name is Elena Reyes."
"Your birth name?"
"Elena Bell."
Benjamin looked up.
Frank lowered his head.
Alexander stared at her.
"Thomas Bell was your father."
"Yes."
"And you knew?"
"Since I was nineteen."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have believed me?"
Alexander opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Twenty-four hours earlier, he would have had her escorted out for making half the accusations she'd already proved true.
Elena folded her arms.
"My father didn't drown."
"How do you know?"
"Because his body was never recovered."
"That doesn't prove murder."
"No."
She reached into her handbag.
"But this might."
She placed an envelope on the kitchen table.
Inside was a photograph of a younger Lorenzo Moretti standing beside three men outside an industrial warehouse.
One man was Thomas Bell.
Another was Vincent, barely twenty years old.
Alexander recognized the third man immediately.
"Detective Andrew Kessler."
Elena nodded.
"The detective who investigated Isabella's accident."
Alexander stared at the photograph.
Kessler had personally delivered the news of Isabella's death.
He had stood in Alexander's office and told him the collision was unsurvivable.
He had placed a sealed evidence bag containing Isabella's ring on the desk.
He had urged Alexander to avoid viewing the body.
And five years later, he had retired quietly to Florida.
"Where did you find this?"
"My father left it with my mother."
"Why?"
"She said he was terrified before he disappeared."
"Of Lorenzo?"
"Of what he discovered."
Alexander examined the photograph.
There was a date stamped on the back.
Nineteen years earlier.
The same week Thomas Bell disappeared.
"What did he discover?"
Elena's voice dropped.
"That the company was making money from people who had already died."
Frank made a low sound.
Alexander looked up.
"Explain."
Elena opened a second envelope.
The documents inside were old.
Some were photocopies.
Others were handwritten.
Alexander saw account numbers, insurance claims, property deeds, and names.
Dozens of names.
All attached to people declared deceased.
"These are death-benefit transactions," he said.
"Some of them."
He turned another page.
"And property transfers."
"Yes."
His expression hardened.
"These people didn't have heirs."
"According to the records."
"Elena."
She met his eyes.
"Some of them weren't dead."
Silence fell.
Alexander looked down again.
He understood what she was suggesting.
People with no immediate families.
People in financial trouble.
People whose identities could be erased.
His father's businesses included nursing facilities, private transport contractors, insurance services, and commercial real estate.
Alexander had spent twenty years expanding the legitimate side of the empire.
He had never seriously investigated the private companies Lorenzo controlled.
"How many?" he asked.
Elena shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Ten?"
"I don't know."
"A hundred?"
Her eyes filled.
"Enough that Isabella couldn't walk away."
Alexander sat back.
He remembered Isabella's final weeks before the accident.
She had grown distant.
She had asked strange questions about their company.
She had wanted access to archived financial reports.
One evening, she'd placed a folder on his desk.
"Alex, I think someone is using our medical subsidiaries to hide criminal payments."
He'd barely looked up.
His father had already told him she was under stress from fertility treatments.
He had said Isabella was becoming obsessive.
Alexander had believed him.
He closed his eyes.
"I told her to take a vacation."
Elena said nothing.
"I told her she was looking for problems that didn't exist."
His voice broke.
"She was trying to warn me."
Frank put a hand on his shoulder.
"You didn't know."
Alexander pulled away.
"I should have."
Across the room, Lucy was asleep on a narrow couch beneath a wool blanket.
Her small face was peaceful.
Alexander stood and walked toward her.
"She was born seven months after the accident."
Elena nodded.
"About thirty-one weeks after Isabella disappeared."
"Was she premature?"
"Yes."
"Isabella survived a severe crash while pregnant?"
"The crash wasn't what the official report described."
Alexander turned.
"What happened?"
"She was taken out of the car before it went over the barrier."
He stared.
"Who took her?"
Elena hesitated.
"I don't know everyone involved."
"Who?"
"Vincent was there."
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"Of course."
"And a doctor."
"What doctor?"
"Dr. Samuel Voss."
Benjamin stood abruptly.
"Voss?"
Alexander looked at him.
"You know him?"
Benjamin's expression changed.
"He was your father's personal physician."
"Was?"
"His medical license was suspended two years ago."
"For what?"
"Falsifying patient records."
Alexander laughed bitterly.
"Apparently that was the family business."
Benjamin checked his phone.
"There's more."
He turned the screen.
A national financial news channel was broadcasting from outside Moretti Holdings headquarters.
The headline read:
MORETTI BOARD ANNOUNCES EMERGENCY LEADERSHIP REVIEW.
A company spokesperson claimed Alexander had become unstable following an incident involving a child at a private event.
His brother Vincent had been appointed temporary executive chairman.
Alexander stared.
"They moved fast."
Benjamin nodded.
"Too fast."
Elena stepped closer.
"What do you mean?"
Alexander looked at the television.
"My brother didn't improvise this tonight."
He pulled out his own phone.
"He's been preparing it."
He called his executive assistant.
Straight to voicemail.
He called the company's general counsel.
No answer.
Then he tried the private number of the only board member he trusted.
Margaret Vale.
She answered on the second ring.
"Alexander?"
"Margaret."
A long silence.
"Thank God."
"What's happening?"
"You need to stay away from headquarters."
"Why?"
"Vincent has presented emergency psychiatric evaluations and a power-of-attorney document."
Alexander froze.
"What?"
"They say you authorized him to assume control if you became incapacitated."
"I signed no such thing."
"I know."
"Then stop him."
Margaret hesitated.
"Alexander, your father signed the supporting declaration."
Alexander looked at Elena.
"My father is dead."
Margaret's voice fell.
"That's the problem."
"What problem?"
"The declaration was notarized six weeks ago."
The room fell silent.
Alexander stared at the phone.
"Six weeks ago?"
"Yes."
"Lorenzo died eleven months ago."
"I know."
Margaret sounded frightened.
"And Alexander?"
May you like
"What?"
"The notary swears your father appeared in person."
