Chapter 8 - THE INHERITANCE THEY HIDEleanor Vale agreed to meet me in a public place.
Not Chicago.
Not Milwaukee.
A small hotel restaurant in Madison, Wisconsin, where she said there would be cameras and enough witnesses to discourage anyone from doing something foolish.
Marcus insisted on arriving early.
We checked the exits.
We sat near the front windows.
And at exactly noon, a silver-haired woman entered wearing a navy coat and carrying a worn leather handbag.
She looked ordinary.
That frightened me more than anything.
For days, I had imagined a glamorous former wife.
A dangerous woman.
Someone who belonged in the Moretti world.
Instead, Eleanor looked like a retired schoolteacher.
She approached our table.
"Claire?"
I stood.
"Mrs. Vale?"
She smiled sadly.
"You look like your mother."
I froze.
"You knew her?"
"Very well."
We sat.
Eleanor studied Marcus.
"Is he trustworthy?"
I answered before he could.
"He's the reason I'm alive."
She nodded.
"Then he'll hear this too."
She opened her handbag.
Inside was a thick envelope.
She placed it on the table.
"Your father discovered a network of companies moving money through the Moretti Foundation."
"I know."
"What you don't know is that he helped create the foundation's original financial structure."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because he believed it could be used for legitimate business after years of violence."
"That doesn't sound like the Morettis."
"Vittorio was different then."
I looked at her.
"Different how?"
"He wanted out."
Eleanor folded her hands.
"Thomas helped him build a legal investment company. The two men owned equal shares through separate trusts."
My breath caught.
"Equal shares?"
"Yes."
"Then why did my father live in a small house while Vittorio lived in a mansion?"
"Because Thomas didn't care about appearances. And because the most valuable assets hadn't matured yet."
I stared at her.
"What assets?"
"Commercial property. Warehouses. Transportation contracts. Several technology investments."
She pushed the envelope toward me.
"Your father's ownership was supposed to pass to you."
I opened it.
Inside were copies of trust documents.
My father's name.
My name.
And a valuation report prepared three years earlier.
I stared at the figure.
Then looked again.
It was more money than I had ever imagined.
"That can't be right."
Eleanor nodded.
"It is."
I looked at Marcus.
He appeared equally stunned.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Eleanor's expression darkened.
"Because after Thomas died, the documents disappeared."
"Who took them?"
"That's what I spent nineteen years trying to prove."
I looked down at the papers.
"Isabella?"
Eleanor hesitated.
"She helped conceal the transfers."
"Why?"
"Because someone was threatening to expose the family's criminal operations unless she cooperated."
"Who?"
Eleanor glanced toward the windows.
"Daniel Cross worked for that person."
I felt cold.
"Daniel was only in his thirties."
"Then you understand he wasn't the one who started this."
"Who was?"
Eleanor looked at me.
"The man who financed the original ambush."
"His name?"
She lowered her voice.
"Richard Voss."
Marcus stiffened.
I turned toward him.
"You know him?"
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Everyone in Adrian's organization knows that name."
"Why?"
"Because Richard Voss supposedly died twenty-two years ago."
Eleanor shook her head.
"He didn't."
In Chicago, Adrian was making a discovery of his own.
He had ordered a complete independent audit of every account Lily Monroe had managed.
Not through his usual accounting department.
Not through the Moretti financial office.
He hired an outside forensic firm and gave them direct access to archived records.
The lead investigator, Natalie Brooks, arrived with a preliminary report.
"Mr. Moretti, we found unusual transfers."
"How unusual?"
"Thirty-seven million dollars over eight years."
Adrian stared at her.
"Where?"
"Shell companies. Mostly offshore."
"Who authorized them?"
"Your financial strategist."
"Lily."
"Yes."
Adrian looked at the report.
"Can you trace the final recipient?"
"Not all of them."
"Some?"
Natalie nodded.
"One account is connected to a company controlled by Richard Voss."
Adrian went still.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because he's dead."
Natalie looked at him.
"Then someone has been using a dead man's identity to move a great deal of money."
Adrian stood.
"Find Lily."
His security team searched her apartment.
Empty.
Her office.
Empty.
Her private garage.
Empty.
She had disappeared.
But she had left something behind.
A sealed letter addressed to Adrian.
Inside was a single photograph.
Claire.
Taken that morning.
Sitting across from Eleanor Vale in Madison.
On the back, Lily had written:
You chose me once.
Now let's see who you choose when the price is everything.
I was still in the restaurant when Marcus received a call.
He listened.
His face changed.
"Claire, we need to leave."
"What happened?"
"Adrian says Lily knows where you are."
I looked toward the window.
A black sedan had stopped across the street.
Two men sat inside.
Neither looked toward the restaurant.
That was what frightened me.
Marcus stood.
"Back exit."
Eleanor grabbed my hand.
"Take the documents."
"What about you?"
"I'll follow."
We moved through the kitchen.
A waitress protested.
Marcus showed her his security credentials.
The rear door opened into an alley.
Cold air struck my face.
Then I heard a car engine.
Marcus stopped.
A second black sedan blocked the alley.
The rear window lowered.
A man looked out.
He was perhaps sixty.
Gray hair.
A scar near his mouth.
He smiled.
"Hello, Claire."
I stepped backward.
"Who are you?"
He looked at Eleanor.
"She hasn't told you?"
Eleanor appeared behind me.
Her face drained.
"Richard."
The man smiled wider.
"Hello, Ellie."
Then he looked at me.
"Your father was a very difficult man."
May you like
My blood turned cold.
"And you," he said, "have inherited his most expensive mistake."
