Chapter 3 - THE BOOK MY SISTER LEFT
Vincent Moretti arrived at six that evening carrying cannoli.
He did that every Tuesday.
For three years, routine had made grief survivable.
Tuesday dinner.
Sunday mass for those who still attended.
Friday board review.
Sofia’s birthday alone.
Her death anniversary alone.
My uncle knew every routine because he helped create half of them.
That evening, Dominic met him at the front hall.
No weapon visible.
Two investigators from an outside firm waited in another room because I had decided, for once, not to turn suspicion into a family execution.
Progress.
Vincent entered the dining room smiling.
“Why does everyone look miserable?”
Then he saw Allie.
Lily.
The blue book on the table.
His smile vanished.
There.
Not proof.
Something.
He set down the pastry box.
“Where did you get that?”
I leaned back.
“You recognize it.”
“Sofia’s book.”
“You remember.”
“She carried it everywhere when she was little.”
He looked at Allie.
Then Lily.
“What is this?”
I slid a printed copy of the personnel-file metadata across the table.
His name appeared in the authorization trail.
Vincent read it.
Slowly.
Then looked at me.
“I can explain.”
“Good.”
He sat without being invited.
He was the only person besides Sofia who had ever done that.
Old privilege.
Maybe ending.
“You altered Allie Carter’s employee file.”
“Yes.”
Allie stiffened.
I had expected denial.
Direct admission was worse.
“Why?”
“To get her hired.”
My hand tightened on the table.
Allie whispered, “What?”
Vincent looked at her.
“I knew who you were.”
“From Rusk?”
He went still.
“How do you know Rusk?”
I almost smiled.
Wrong question.
“Why did you send him after her?”
His eyes moved to me.
“I didn’t.”
“Careful.”
“I mean it.”
“You used him.”
“Years ago.”
“For what?”
“Family matters.”
“That phrase is becoming offensive.”
Vincent sighed.
“Rusk worked for your father, then me. I stopped using him after Sofia died.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought he was dirty.”
“Thought?”
“He was selling information.”
“To who?”
“I never proved it.”
“Convenient.”
He looked tired.
“Murphy, if I wanted Allie silenced, she would not be sitting at this table.”
Allie flinched.
I stared at him.
“That was a terrible sentence.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Lily opened the pastry box.
Nobody stopped her.
She selected a cannoli.
Vincent watched her.
“Who’s this?”
Lily looked offended.
“I’m Lily.”
“Of course.”
She bit the cannoli.
Cream covered her nose.
Vincent almost smiled.
Then looked at the blanket still draped over the chair beside me.
“What happened to you?”
“Answer the question.”
His gaze returned.
“Why did you alter Allie’s file?”
“I received a message two months ago.”
“From?”
“Anonymous.”
“Content?”
He took out his phone.
Dominic had already cloned it with consent before the meeting.
Vincent showed me a screenshot.
HIRE ALLIE CARTER. REMOVE ST. CATHERINE’S FROM THE FILE. IF MURPHY SEES IT, HE’LL REJECT HER.
Below it:
SHE HAS WHAT SOFIA LEFT.
My pulse slowed.
“You obeyed an anonymous message.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I investigated Allie first.”
She stared.
“You investigated me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about Lily?”
“Yes.”
Her face hardened.
“Stay out of my daughter’s life.”
Vincent nodded.
“Fair.”
Again, family men discovering the concept of boundaries.
“Who sent it?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because the message also said if you knew before Allie entered the house, she would die.”
Silence.
I looked at Allie.
She went pale.
Vincent continued.
“I thought the house was the safest place.”
Allie laughed bitterly.
“Everyone loves deciding that.”
I almost did too.
“What did you think she had?”
“No idea.”
“The book?”
“I recognized it today.”
“So why remove St. Catherine’s?”
“Because you would have flagged the connection to Sofia and refused placement.”
True.
I would have.
I had kept anything connected to the hospital away from my life.
Doctors.
Charities.
Even a catering company whose owner’s wife worked there.
Grief had made me superstitious.
“Who knew that about me?”
Vincent looked at Dominic.
Then me.
“Everyone close.”
Bad answer.
Large suspect pool.
Dominic placed the microfilm under a document camera.
“We had it digitized.”
I turned.
“You already processed it?”
“Non-networked lab. Outside technician. Chain documented.”
“Good.”
Vincent stared.
“What is it?”
Dominic put an image on the screen.
Rows of numbers.
Dates.
Company names.
Vehicle registrations.
Phone codes.
At first meaningless.
Then I recognized one entity.
Lakefront Development LLC.
A shell company tied to our legitimate real-estate arm.
Another.
Marzano Freight.
A trucking firm owned by rivals.
Another.
St. Catherine’s Foundation.
My stomach tightened.
“What is this?”
Vincent leaned closer.
“Payment ledger.”
“To who?”
Dominic scrolled.
One line had Sofia’s initials.
SM surveillance.
Another:
SM vehicle route.
Then:
Impact contingency.
Allie covered her mouth.
I stared.
Sofia’s crash.
There it was.
Not accident.
Payment planning.
Vincent looked sick.
“I never saw this.”
“Who had access to these accounts?”
He answered.
“Three people.”
“Names.”
“You. Me. Dominic.”
Dom’s face went cold.
I looked at him.
He looked back.
No fear.
No anger.
Just hurt.
“Murphy.”
I held up a hand.
“I know.”
But knowing someone was loyal and proving it were different.
Sofia’s note said the traitor ate at my table.
Dom did.
Vincent did.
Half my inner circle did.
I was not going to let grief choose a target again.
“What period?”
Dominic zoomed.
Four months before the crash.
“Can we trace login origin?”
“Maybe.”
“Do it.”
Vincent sat back.
“Where did Sofia get this?”
Allie answered.
“She never told me.”
He looked at her.
“You were with her near the end?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say about Murphy?”
I almost stopped him.
Then didn’t.
Allie looked at me.
“Mostly that he was stubborn.”
Vincent laughed softly.
“That tracks.”
“She said he thought suffering privately made him noble.”
I stopped breathing.
Vincent looked down.
That sounded exactly like Sofia.
Allie continued.
“She said if she died, he would turn the whole house into a mausoleum and call it discipline.”
Lily licked cream from one finger.
Everyone looked at the blanket.
I hated them.
Allie almost smiled.
“She knew you.”
“Yes.”
The word came out rough.
Vincent looked at the digitized film.
“Sofia knew someone was watching her.”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you why?”
Allie nodded.
“She said she had found proof someone inside Moretti Holdings was moving money through a company tied to city contracts.”
“Which contracts?”
“Emergency housing.”
Vincent’s face changed.
I noticed.
“What?”
He hesitated.
I leaned forward.
“Say it.”
“Three years ago, we were bidding on redevelopment near South Lawndale.”
“So?”
“The project included emergency relocation funds.”
“And?”
“There was a scandal. Families were moved into unsafe temporary units.”
I remembered.
At the time, it was blamed on subcontractors.
We terminated two.
Paid settlements.
Kept moving.
Sofia had run our philanthropic housing review.
“She investigated.”
Vincent nodded.
“She was furious.”
“At me?”
“At everyone.”
I felt guilt.
I had dismissed it as one more argument between siblings.
Sofia always cared about people who had no leverage.
I cared too, in theory.
But business meetings came first.
The family came first.
She hated that phrase.
“Who ran the subcontracting structure?”
Vincent looked toward the door.
Then back.
“Your cousin Adrian.”
My stomach dropped.
Adrian Moretti.
My mother’s nephew.
Our CFO.
Forty-one.
Educated.
Careful.
Never raised his voice.
He ate at my table every Thursday.
“Where is he?”
Dominic checked his phone.
“At headquarters.”
“Does he know about this meeting?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Vincent said, “Do not assume.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like you are.”
“I look like I haven’t slept warm in three years.”
Lily patted my arm.
“Blanket.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then at me.
“What exactly happened today?”
I ignored him.
Dominic’s phone buzzed.
He checked the trace.
His face hardened.
“We have a result.”
“Login origin?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The payment ledger account was accessed from an executive terminal the night before each transaction.”
“Whose?”
He looked at me.
“Adrian’s.”
The room went silent.
Vincent exhaled.
Allie gripped Lily’s shoulder.
I felt nothing.
That worried me.
No rage.
No satisfaction.
Just emptiness.
Maybe grief had already burned through those fuels.
Then Dominic added, “But there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“On the night the ‘impact contingency’ payment was approved, Adrian was in London.”
Vincent frowned.
“You sure?”
“Passport. Hotel. Board dinner. Forty witnesses.”
“So someone used his terminal.”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Executive cleaning staff. IT administrators. Security. Senior family.”
Allie’s face changed.
“Cleaning staff?”
I saw it.
“Why?”
She looked toward the hall.
“Because at St. Catherine’s, Sofia told me something else.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘People never see the person carrying the trash bag.’”
Silence.
Allie continued.
“I thought she was talking about me.”
Maybe she was.
Maybe not.
Dominic asked, “Who cleaned Adrian’s office?”
The personnel archive came up.
One name.
Margaret Bell.
No relation to Allie.
Older woman.
Worked twenty-two years.
Retired one week after Sofia’s crash.
Address unknown.
Vincent stared at the screen.
“I remember Margaret.”
“So do I,” I said.
She had made coffee when I was a teenager.
Brought Sofia peppermint candies.
Never spoke unless spoken to.
Invisible.
Like staff often became around powerful men.
“Find her,” I said.
Dominic nodded.
Allie looked at me.
“Police?”
I met her eyes.
She was testing me.
Would I solve this with Moretti men?
Or evidence?
“Outside investigator first. Then police if the ledger verifies criminal activity.”
She nodded.
Small approval.
I hated that I wanted it.
Lily finished the cannoli and announced, “Uncle Vinny has sugar.”
Vincent wiped his jacket.
He looked at me.
“Uncle?”
I almost smiled.
“You brought pastries. You created the problem.”
Before he could answer, Fantasma appeared at the dining room door.
The cat carried something in her mouth.
A torn piece of fabric.
Blue silk.
I stood.
No one in the house wore blue silk.
Not today.
Fantasma dropped it at Lily’s feet.
Lily picked it up.
“The lady.”
Every adult froze.
“What lady?” Vincent asked.
Lily pointed toward the hall.
“The one who opened sad room.”
I felt cold.
The woman in the blue dress had been real.
And she was still inside my estate.
Dominic moved first.
Lockdown.
Cameras.
Doors.
Staff accounted for.
Within twelve minutes, we had one missing person.
Not an employee.
A guest.
Adrian Moretti’s wife.
Celeste.
She had arrived at noon for a charity committee meeting and never signed out.
May you like
Celeste wore blue silk.
And she knew exactly where Sofia’s room had been.
