Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Watch
I didn't open either envelope until I reached my father's house.
My father, Richard Bennett, had built his fortune through real estate, banking, and investments. He had never particularly liked Alexander, but he respected my decision to marry him.
That respect had begun disappearing long before I admitted my marriage was in trouble.
"You're late," he said when I entered his study.
"Family memorial."
He studied my face.
"Did something happen?"
I placed the two envelopes on his desk.
"Something happened before the memorial. I just didn't know how much."
He read the message on the second envelope.
His expression changed.
"Where did you get this?"
"From Vittorio's lawyer."
My father leaned back.
"Open the first one."
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Claire,
If you're reading this, I hope I've been wrong about the things I've suspected.
I have watched my grandson become a man who believes power means never having to explain himself. That is not the legacy I wanted to leave him.
You were the first person who challenged him without trying to destroy him.
There are things happening inside this family that you do not know about. The foundation is being used for purposes that have nothing to do with charity.
I asked you to remain involved because I trust your judgment.
If you discover that Alexander has betrayed your trust, do not allow his family to convince you that protecting the Moretti name is more important than protecting yourself.
Some promises are worth keeping.
Others are warnings.
Vittorio.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at my father.
"What does he mean by the foundation?"
My father reached for his phone.
"Let me make a few calls."
I spent the next hour reviewing the documents Natalie had collected over the previous year.
At first, everything looked normal.
Then I noticed several payments made through companies I didn't recognize.
The amounts were unusually large.
And every transaction had been approved by someone using Alexander's authorization.
"These aren't charitable payments," I whispered.
My father examined the records.
"No. They're transfers."
"To whom?"
He pointed at one company.
"Reynolds Strategic Holdings."
I stared at the name.
"Reynolds?"
"Does Sophia have a family business?"
"Her father died years ago. She told me she inherited almost nothing."
My father looked at me.
"Then someone has been lying."
My phone rang.
Alexander.
I answered.
"Where are you?"
"With my father."
"Come home. We need to resolve today's situation."
"What situation?"
"Claire, don't make me repeat myself."
I looked at the financial records.
"Did you know your grandfather was investigating the foundation?"
Silence.
Then he said, "Who told you that?"
"His lawyer."
"Claire, stay out of company affairs."
I almost smiled.
"Your grandfather specifically asked me to look into them."
"That was before he died."
"His letter was written shortly before his death."
Alexander's voice dropped.
"Don't start digging into things you don't understand."
There it was.
Not concern.
Not an explanation.
A warning.
I ended the call.
The next morning, Natalie discovered something even more disturbing.
Sophia had not simply received the Hermès watch.
The watch had been purchased through a private account connected to one of the Moretti family's charitable foundations.
The invoice listed it as a corporate gift.
I stared at the receipt.
"So my husband bought his mistress a luxury watch using money meant for charity?"
Natalie hesitated.
"We don't know if they're involved romantically."
I looked at the photograph of Sophia wearing Alexander's jacket.
"Then perhaps we should find out."
That afternoon, I received an unexpected visitor.
Sophia.
She stood in my living room wearing a cream-colored dress and carrying a small gift bag.
"I wanted to apologize," she said.
I didn't invite her to sit.
"For what?"
"For the misunderstanding."
"Which one?"
Her smile faltered.
"The watch. Alexander shouldn't have given it to me."
"Then why did you accept it?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Because he said it didn't matter."
I watched her carefully.
"Did he also tell you the money came from the family foundation?"
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
"Why would you say that?"
I placed the invoice on the table.
Sophia stared at it.
Then she whispered something I hadn't expected.
"Claire, you need to stop investigating."
I stepped closer.
"Why?"
Her eyes filled with genuine fear.
"Because Alexander isn't the person you should be afraid of."
Before I could ask another question, she hurried toward the door.
But she left something behind.
A photograph.
It showed Sophia standing beside Vittorio Moretti three weeks before his death.
And behind them was Alexander's mother.
May you like
Margaret.
Holding a document.
