Chapter 3 - THE SHOEBOX NOBODY OPENED
Dominic had not heard his mother's name spoken with fear in eleven years.
His mother had been dead since the winter of 2015.
Cancer.
At least, that was what everyone had told him.
He had attended the funeral.
He had chosen the flowers.
He had stood beside her coffin while hundreds of people whispered about what a strong woman she had been.
He had believed every word.
Now Elena Carter was telling him that his mother had written letters to her.
Dominic stared at the shoebox.
“Open it.”
Elena shook her head.
“They aren't mine.”
“They were sent to you.”
“I never opened them.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother told me not to.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
That was the year Elena's husband died.
Dominic remembered the accident.
A construction foreman named Michael Carter had fallen from scaffolding at a Moretti-owned redevelopment site in Queens.
The investigation concluded that the scaffolding had failed because of improper installation by a subcontractor.
Moretti Group paid the settlement.
Dominic had never met Michael.
At least, he didn't remember meeting him.
Elena placed the shoebox on the table.
There were twenty-three envelopes.
All unopened.
All bearing his mother's handwriting.
Dominic recognized it instantly.
He picked up the first envelope.
Elena — Open only if Dominic begins asking questions.
He looked at the date.
Three years ago.
His mother had known he would eventually ask.
The second envelope read:
For Dominic, if Elena is ever forced out.
Dominic's pulse accelerated.
“Why did you keep these?”
Elena sat down.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of my mother?”
“No.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked toward Lily.
“The people your father left behind.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“My father died eleven years ago.”
“His business didn't.”
The room became very quiet.
Dominic opened the first envelope.
Inside was a single sheet.
Elena,
If Dominic ever discovers the account discrepancies, do not trust anyone in the administration office. Not Helena. Not the auditors. Not the legal department. The problem is deeper than money.
Dominic read the sentence again.
Then the next.
Your husband found the first ledger. He believed the missing funds were connected to construction contracts. He was wrong.
Dominic stopped breathing.
Michael had found something.
And then he died.
Elena watched his face.
“I didn't know what it meant.”
“You knew enough to be afraid.”
“Yes.”
Dominic opened another letter.
The person moving the money does not need to steal it. They only need to make it appear legitimate.
A third.
Look for the signature.
A fourth.
The signature will be yours.
Dominic stared at the page.
“My signature?”
Elena shook her head.
“Not yours.”
She pointed at the bottom.
Dominic recognized the handwriting.
It was his.
Except he had not written it.
The signature had been copied with extraordinary precision.
A forged authorization.
Dominic felt something cold move through his chest.
“Who has access to my signature files?”
Elena answered immediately.
“Finance. Legal. Executive administration.”
“Who?”
“Helena Voss. Arthur Bell. Jonathan Pike.”
Dominic knew all three.
Arthur Bell was Moretti Group's chief financial officer.
Jonathan Pike was general counsel.
Both men had worked with his father.
Dominic looked at Elena.
“Why were you fired?”
“I found a payment.”
“What payment?”
“Eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Marco's eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
“A company called Northstar Civic Solutions.”
Dominic frowned.
“That's a consulting firm.”
“Yes.”
“It has a contract with us?”
“No.”
Silence.
Dominic understood.
“Then why did we pay them?”
“We didn't.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Someone did.”
Elena nodded.
“From an account that looks like ours.”
Dominic stood.
“Show me.”
Elena opened her laptop.
Her hands trembled.
The transaction appeared.
$800,000.
Northstar Civic Solutions.
Authorization code: D-17.
Dominic knew that code.
It belonged to his father.
He had retired it years ago.
No one should have been able to use it.
Marco leaned closer.
“Boss.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Find Northstar.”
“Already doing it.”
Lily wandered toward the window.
Then stopped.
“Mommy?”
Elena looked up.
“What?”
“The man was outside again.”
Dominic turned.
“What man?”
Lily pointed through the curtains.
Across the street stood a gray sedan.
Engine running.
Windows dark.
Dominic moved toward the window.
The car pulled away.
“Marco.”
“I saw it.”
Dominic looked at Elena.
“How long has that car been there?”
“Three days.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought they were watching me.”
Dominic looked at Lily.
Then at the shoebox.
Then at the forged signature.
Something had changed.
This was no longer an internal accounting problem.
Someone had been watching Elena.
Someone had killed her husband.
Someone had forged Dominic's signature.
And now his mother had left twenty-three unopened letters warning him that the danger was inside his own company.
Dominic closed the shoebox.
“We're leaving.”
Elena shook her head.
“Where?”
“My house.”
“No.”
“It's the safest place I have.”
“That is exactly what I'm afraid of.”
Dominic stared at her.
She whispered:
“Your house is where they expect you to go.”
For the first time that night, Dominic realized something.
Elena wasn't afraid of being near him.
She was afraid of being near someone who knew exactly how powerful he was.
May you like
And perhaps more frighteningly—
exactly how predictable.
