Chapter 4 - The Shell Company
The black sedan cut through the congested streets of the downtown industrial district, the engine purring quietly beneath us as the brick tenements and rusted iron fire escapes of 4th Street rolled past the tinted windows. I sat in the passenger seat, my hands folded tightly in my lap, watching the familiar cracked sidewalks and fading storefronts blur by.
Luca drove with one hand resting casually on the wheel, his dark gaze scanning the street numbers until he pulled the car to a curb directly in front of my grandmother's faded yellow apartment building. The paint was peeling around the second-floor window where Teresa always kept her geraniums, and a bright orange eviction notice was stapled directly over the front brass door handle.
Luca killed the engine. The sudden silence inside the car felt heavy, almost suffocating.
"This is the property," I said, my voice tight.
Luca opened his door and stepped out onto the cracked pavement. I followed him, my boots clicking against the concrete as we walked up the three shallow stone steps to the front door. He didn't knock. Instead, he reached out with his gloved hand, peeled the bright orange paper off the wood, and unfolded it.
His eyes scanned the fine print at the bottom—the corporate registration, the notary seal, the corporate parent company listed in bold ink.
"Vanguard Holdings," Luca muttered, his voice dropping into a harsh, cold register.
"Is that yours?" I asked, looking up at him, my heart in my throat.
Luca turned the paper toward me, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. "Vanguard is a subsidiary on paper. It's listed under Moretti Capital assets. But I never authorized this acquisition. My signature was forged."
The breath caught in my lungs. "Forged?"
"Someone on the executive board is clearing out this entire block behind my back," Luca said, his eyes burning with a sudden, dark intensity. He looked up at the second-floor window where the lace curtain twitched slightly, revealing a flash of gray hair before it dropped back into place. "They aren't just evicting your grandmother, Emma. They're liquidating properties to funnel capital out of the firm without my oversight."
"Who?" I asked, the pieces finally clicking together in my mind.
"The same people Vanessa spends her Tuesday evenings dining with," Luca said grimly. He folded the notice and slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He turned to face me, his hand coming up to rest lightly, deliberately, on my shoulder. The warmth of his palm cut through the cold autumn air. "Your grandmother isn't leaving this house. And neither are you."
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"You can't just fight your entire board alone," I said, looking straight into his dark eyes.
"Watch me," Luca said quietly.
