Chapter 7 - THE MAN BEHIND THE EMPIRE
Vincent's phone began vibrating.
He looked at the screen.
“It's my CFO.”
Claire stared.
“The person handling your accounts?”
“Yes.”
“Answer.”
Vincent did.
A man's voice came through.
“Mr. Moretti, the board has voted.”
Vincent's expression didn't change.
“On what?”
“They're removing you.”
Claire's heart sank.
“Effective immediately.”
Vincent looked at Salvatore.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
The CFO continued.
“Your corporate accounts are frozen.”
Vincent ended the call.
Salvatore shook his head.
“Vale moved faster than expected.”
Vincent looked at Claire.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You said this was our fight.”
He nodded.
“Then I stay.”
The priest locked the church doors.
They waited.
No attack came.
Instead, a black sedan pulled into the parking lot.
A man stepped out.
Vincent's CFO.
Daniel Mercer.
He entered alone.
Vincent stared.
“You.”
Daniel raised both hands.
“I came to talk.”
“You just helped remove me from my own company.”
“I prevented a takeover.”
“By whom?”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“Vale.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“You're working for him.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“Then explain.”
Daniel pulled a folder from his coat.
“Your father's old accounts are being used to finance Vale's network.”
Vincent opened it.
The numbers were real.
Claire saw payments.
Names.
Shipping routes.
And one recurring signature.
Salvatore Moretti.
She looked at Salvatore.
He shook his head.
“Forgery.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
Vincent stared.
“Then who?”
Daniel placed another page on the table.
The signature belonged to Giovanni Moretti.
Vincent's dead father.
But the dates were after his death.
Claire understood.
“Someone is using his identity.”
Daniel nodded.
“Someone who has access to every old account.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“Your mother.”
Claire went cold.
“No.”
“She had access.”
“She was hiding.”
“She also had the authority to move the trust funds.”
Claire shook her head.
“My mother would never.”
Daniel sighed.
“I'm not saying she did.”
“Then why show me this?”
“Because someone wants you to believe she did.”
That was the reversal.
The evidence pointing toward Eleanor might have been manufactured.
Vincent looked at the files.
“Who has access to the original signatures?”
Daniel answered,
“Your family archivist.”
Vincent went still.
“Arthur Bell.”
Claire remembered the name.
He was an older man who had worked for the Morettis for decades.
“Where is he?”
Daniel looked away.
“Missing.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“Since when?”
“Three days.”
The same day Vanessa appeared in Vincent's office.
Claire suddenly understood.
Vanessa hadn't been the main player.
She had been bait.
Vincent looked at her.
“I used her.”
Claire nodded.
“And someone used you.”
“Yes.”
Daniel opened another file.
“There is one more problem.”
“What?”
“The trust account was emptied yesterday.”
Claire froze.
“All eighty million?”
“Yes.”
“Where did it go?”
Daniel hesitated.
“An offshore account.”
“Whose?”
Daniel looked at Vincent.
“Your son's.”
Silence.
Claire's face drained.
“My son doesn't even have a bank account.”
“Exactly.”
Vincent stood.
“Someone created one in his name.”
Claire's hand moved over her belly.
“They're trying to frame us.”
“Yes.”
“For money laundering.”
Daniel nodded.
“And when the authorities arrive, Vincent becomes the obvious target.”
Claire looked at Vincent.
“Then we prove the account isn't ours.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not enough.”
“Why?”
“Because the account was opened using Claire's identity.”
Claire froze.
“My identity?”
Daniel nodded.
“Someone has your passport information.”
Vincent looked at Salvatore.
“Who had access?”
Salvatore's expression changed.
“The penthouse staff.”
Claire remembered something.
The gray coat.
The one she had found in the safety deposit box.
Her mother's coat.
She reached into the pocket.
A hotel key card fell out.
The Bellmont Hotel.
She looked at the date.
Yesterday.
Someone had been using her mother's identity recently.
Claire looked at Vincent.
“We go there.”
They arrived at the hotel.
The front desk clerk recognized the name immediately.
“Mrs. Cole?”
Claire nodded.
“She's staying here?”
The clerk hesitated.
Then checked the system.
“Yes.”
Claire's heart stopped.
“What room?”
The clerk looked confused.
“Room 1417.”
Claire stared.
Her mother's birthday.
Her own birthday month and year.
They went upstairs.
The room was empty.
But on the bed was a photograph.
Claire picked it up.
Her mother.
Alive.
Standing beside Adrian Vale.
On the back:
COME ALONE, CLAIRE.
Underneath was another sentence.
YOUR HUSBAND IS NOT THE MAN YOU THINK.
Vincent stared at it.
Claire turned toward him.
“Is that true?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said,
“There is one thing I never told you.”
“What?”
“My father didn't die before I took over.”
Claire froze.
“He was alive.”
“For how long?”
“Two years.”
“Where?”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“Under my protection.”
Claire's breath caught.
“Why?”
“Because he was trying to confess.”
“To whom?”
Vincent's voice dropped.
“To me.”
Claire whispered,
“What did he confess?”
May you like
Vincent looked directly at her.
“That he was the man who ordered your father's murder.”
