Chapter 2 - THE MONEY THAT DISAPPEARED
The transfers finished at 2:13 in the afternoon.
Norah stared at the screen.
Twenty percent.
Four accounts.
No dramatic alarms.
No flashing warnings.
Just numbers changing quietly beneath her fingers.
For the first time in months, she allowed herself to breathe.
Then Arthur knocked on the study door.
Norah closed the laptop.
“Yes?”
The head of security stepped inside.
He was older than Matteo by almost twenty years, with silver hair and the kind of expression that never revealed what he was thinking.
“Mrs. Rossi.”
He glanced at the laptop.
Then at her.
“You're not supposed to be in here.”
“I know.”
Arthur studied her.
“You've been spending a lot of time in this room.”
“I needed something.”
“What?”
Norah looked directly at him.
“A way to keep my baby safe.”
Arthur's expression shifted.
He closed the door behind him.
“Does Mr. Rossi know?”
“No.”
“He should.”
Norah laughed softly.
“He's on a honeymoon with another woman.”
Arthur looked down.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“I know everything that happens inside this house.”
Norah stood.
“Then you know how long this has been going on.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
Arthur's jaw tightened.
“Mr. Rossi doesn't appreciate people interfering in his marriage.”
“That marriage was already broken.”
Arthur didn't argue.
Instead, he reached into his jacket.
He removed a small envelope.
“I was told to give you this only if you ever decided to leave.”
Norah stared at it.
“By whom?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Your husband.”
Her heart skipped.
“Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after the affair?”
“Before.”
Norah opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
She and Matteo on their wedding day.
She was laughing.
Matteo had one hand around her waist.
On the back, he had written something in black ink.
If she ever stops believing me, keep her safe anyway.
Norah stared at the words.
For several seconds, she couldn't breathe.
“Why would he write that?”
“I don't know.”
Arthur stood.
“But I think you're missing something.”
“What?”
“He didn't expect you to leave.”
Norah looked up.
“No.”
Arthur's voice became quieter.
“He expected someone else to make you leave.”
That sentence stayed with her.
Before she could ask what he meant, her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
The second transfer was wrong. Check the Geneva account.
Norah's blood ran cold.
She looked at the laptop.
The Geneva account.
She had planned to move twenty percent.
But the message implied someone had been watching.
Arthur noticed her expression.
“What happened?”
Norah showed him.
He read it.
Then immediately pulled out his phone.
“Lock the study.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent this knows what you're doing.”
The door closed behind him.
Norah looked at the laptop again.
A new line had appeared in the account activity.
Not one of her transfers.
A withdrawal.
Forty percent.
The money had been moved out of the Geneva account before she touched it.
Destination unknown.
Norah's stomach tightened.
Someone else was taking Matteo's money.
Someone with access almost as good as hers.
She opened the transaction details.
A reference code appeared.
H-47.
Norah whispered the letter.
“H.”
Harper.
Then she stopped.
No.
That was too obvious.
She checked the time.
The withdrawal had occurred three hours before the account was touched.
Matteo had been asleep beside the pool in Santorini.
Or at least, that was what she assumed.
Her phone rang.
Matteo.
She stared at his name.
Then answered.
“What?”
His voice was tense.
“Are you in the house?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“Because Arthur just called me.”
Her pulse jumped.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you've been in my study.”
Norah said nothing.
Matteo's breathing changed.
“Norah.”
“I needed financial records.”
“You had no right.”
“You had no right to take Harper on our honeymoon.”
Silence.
Then Matteo spoke more quietly.
“This isn't about Harper.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
Another pause.
“Someone is moving money from one of my accounts.”
Norah froze.
“How much?”
“Forty percent.”
She stared at the laptop.
“Geneva.”
“How did you know?”
Norah closed her eyes.
Because someone had just sent her the warning.
“Matteo.”
“What?”
“Did Harper have access to your accounts?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then someone you trust does.”
Matteo didn't answer.
Finally he said:
“I'm coming home.”
Norah's heart stopped.
“You're in Santorini.”
“Not anymore.”
The line went dead.
Norah looked toward the window.
The house suddenly felt different.
Not like a fortress.
Like a cage.
Then Arthur rushed back into the room.
“Mrs. Rossi.”
“What?”
His face had gone pale.
“Your husband's private jet just changed its flight plan.”
“Where is it going?”
Arthur swallowed.
“Boston.”
Then he handed her a second photograph.
Matteo.
Harper.
And a third person standing behind them.
A man Norah recognized immediately.
May you like
Her father's former accountant.
The man who had been reported dead seven years earlier.
