Chapter 4 - The Man Who Wanted Vincent Angry
Thomas Bellini wasn't arrested.
His driver claimed he'd borrowed the car.
The photograph had been sent anonymously.
There wasn't enough evidence.
But something had changed.
Bellini knew we had noticed him.
Three nights later, Adrian drove me home from the hospital.
“You don't need to do this,” I said.
“I know.”
“You have security following us.”
“Yes.”
“So why are you driving?”
“Because I wanted twenty minutes alone with you.”
I looked at him.
“That was better.”
“The flirting?”
“Still needs work.”
He smiled.
We stopped outside my apartment.
Then Adrian's phone rang.
His expression changed as he listened.
“What happened?”
He ended the call.
“My father collapsed.”
We reached Moretti's house twenty minutes later.
Vincent wasn't unconscious.
He was sitting angrily on a sofa while a doctor checked his blood pressure.
“I didn't collapse.”
Adrian stared at him.
“Carlo said you collapsed.”
“I sat down aggressively.”
“You fell into a chair.”
“Same thing.”
The doctor looked exhausted.
“He needs rest.”
Vincent waved him away.
I noticed an envelope on the table.
“What is that?”
Vincent said nothing.
I picked it up.
Inside was another photograph.
This time, Vincent was the subject.
Underneath it were four words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED.
Adrian's face hardened.
“Bellini.”
“No,” I said.
Both men looked at me.
“What?”
“Why would Bellini warn Vincent after already exposing himself?”
Vincent leaned back.
“Continue.”
I examined the envelope.
“No stamp.”
Adrian understood first.
“It was delivered personally.”
“Where?”
Vincent answered.
“My office.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then whoever sent this can get inside Moretti Holdings.”
Silence.
Vincent looked toward Carlo.
“Lock the building.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Vincent snapped, “Would you stop saying that?”
“Locking everyone inside tells the person we know.”
Adrian nodded.
“She's right.”
Vincent pointed at him.
“You've started saying that far too often.”
I spread the photograph on the table.
“Who knew about Bellini?”
Vincent listed six names.
Adrian.
Carlo.
Two executives.
Vincent's attorney.
And Marcus Hale, the CFO whose invoices I'd questioned my first day.
I looked at Adrian.
He saw it too.
“Marcus.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Twenty years.”
“That doesn't make him innocent,” I said.
“It makes him family.”
“Sometimes family knows exactly where to hurt you.”
Vincent stared at me.
The next morning, we created a trap.
Vincent told each suspect a different version of the same fake information.
To Carlo, he said a contract would be signed Monday.
To his attorney, Tuesday.
To the executives, Wednesday and Thursday.
To Marcus, Friday.
Six hours later, Bellini called.
He wanted to negotiate before Friday.
Vincent sat behind his desk.
Nobody spoke.
Finally he said:
“Bring Marcus.”
Marcus arrived fifteen minutes later.
He saw me.
Then Adrian.
Then Vincent.
His face changed.
Vincent held up a phone.
“Why does Bellini think I'm signing Friday?”
Marcus said nothing.
“Twenty years,” Vincent continued.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
Marcus looked toward me.
And smiled.
“She did this.”
Vincent's voice dropped.
“Don't.”
“She walked into this company and suddenly you've become weak.”
Vincent stood.
Marcus continued.
“You call police now. You negotiate. You ask permission from a waitress.”
Vincent moved toward him.
I stepped between them.
“Vincent.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“If you hurt him, we lose everything he knows.”
Marcus laughed.
“There she is. Your new conscience.”
I turned.
“No.”
His smile faded.
“I'm the woman who noticed in ten minutes what you hid for twenty years.”
Adrian opened the door.
Two corporate security officers entered.
Marcus looked at Vincent.
“You're going to let her do this?”
Vincent stared at his former friend.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I'm going to listen to her.”
Marcus was escorted out.
For once, Vincent didn't order revenge.
He ordered an audit.
And what the auditors found was much worse.
Marcus hadn't stolen thousands.
He had stolen millions.
And Thomas Bellini wasn't his boss.
May you like
He was his partner.
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