Chapter 6 - The Woman They Planned to Frame
“Someone is moving stolen money through a company registered in Naomi's name,” I said. “And that someone is going to prison.”
Naomi stared at me across Tessa's office.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she asked the question I should have expected.
“Dante, how do I know your family hasn't already made it look like I'm the criminal?”
I looked at the documents spread across the desk.
“You don't.”
Her eyes widened.
I continued before she could misunderstand.
“And I won't insult you by pretending that my word should be enough. We're going to find independent evidence.”
She studied me.
Five years earlier, I might have promised to handle everything myself.
Back then, I believed money and power could solve almost any problem.
Now I was learning that sometimes they were the problem.
Marcus Chen arrived forty minutes later.
He wore a wrinkled gray suit and carried a laptop bag stuffed with documents.
He looked as though he hadn't slept.
“Dante, I shouldn't be here,” he said as soon as he entered.
“Why not?”
“Because someone in the finance department has been accessing archived records without authorization. I've already received two calls asking why I reviewed the Harbor Light accounts.”
“From Carlo?”
Marcus shook his head.
“His executive assistant.”
I exchanged a look with Gabriel.
The circle was tightening.
Marcus opened his laptop and displayed a series of financial records.
“The design company is called Ellis Creative Partners. It was incorporated in Georgia in late 2021.”
Naomi leaned closer.
“I've never heard of it.”
“The documents contain your full name, an old residential address, and copies of identification records.”
She went pale.
“That was my apartment in Manhattan. Before I disappeared.”
Marcus nodded.
“The registered owner information was filed using documents from that period.”
Naomi looked at me.
“Someone stole my identity.”
“That's what it appears to be,” Marcus said.
He opened another record.
“This company has barely conducted any legitimate business. But substantial transfers have passed through its accounts, most of them routed to other entities within days.”
“How much?” I asked.
“Over eleven million dollars in five years.”
Naomi covered her mouth.
Eleven million.
A woman who had spent years raising our daughter on a graphic designer's income had apparently been used as the legal face of a multimillion-dollar laundering operation.
“And the two-million-dollar transfer yesterday?” I asked.
Marcus pointed to the screen.
“That's what concerns me most. The transfer was initiated shortly after Naomi entered Moretti Tower.”
I understood immediately.
Someone had waited until Naomi returned to New York before moving more money through the account.
If investigators traced the transaction without knowing the full story, the timing could make her appear involved.
“It was a trap,” I said.
Naomi nodded slowly.
“They wanted me to come back. Then they wanted to make sure I'd never be believed.”
Tessa folded her arms.
“I warned Naomi not to go to that building.”
Naomi looked exhausted.
“I thought if I confronted Vittorio with the original financial report, he'd agree to stop everything.”
“Why would you trust him?” I asked.
Her eyes flashed.
“I didn't trust him. I hoped he'd understand that families had suffered enough.”
That answer silenced me.
Naomi hadn't returned to Moretti Tower for money.
She'd returned because people who had lost their homes were still waiting for help.
And because she wanted to stop someone from harming our daughter.
I reached for her hand.
Then I stopped.
I had no right to assume she wanted my touch.
Naomi noticed.
After a moment, she placed her hand over mine.
Just briefly.
But it was enough to remind me what I'd lost.
Gabriel's phone rang.
He stepped outside.
When he returned, his face was grim.
“Dante, we have another problem.”
“What?”
“Someone contacted a financial reporter this morning. They're preparing a story connecting Naomi to the missing charity funds.”
Naomi pulled her hand away.
“Of course they are.”
Marcus closed his laptop.
“Then we need an independent forensic accounting firm immediately.”
“And a lawyer who has never represented Moretti Holdings,” Tessa added.
I agreed.
Within an hour, Gabriel arranged a consultation with an attorney named Evelyn Bell, a respected white-collar defense lawyer known for representing whistleblowers.
Tessa also contacted Simone Carter, a federal prosecutor who had been reviewing complaints connected to the waterfront redevelopment project.
I didn't attempt to buy anyone's cooperation.
I didn't ask for favors.
I asked that the evidence be preserved and examined.
For once, I wanted the process to work without my last name controlling the outcome.
Later that afternoon, Naomi and I returned to the safe apartment.
Julie opened the door before we could knock.
Lily came running from the living room.
“Mommy!”
Naomi dropped to her knees.
Lily threw herself into her arms.
For several seconds, Naomi held her so tightly that the little girl giggled.
“Mommy, you're squishing me!”
Naomi loosened her embrace.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you more than anything.”
I stood quietly near the doorway.
Watching them hurt.
Not because I resented their bond.
Because I understood how much of Lily's life I had missed.
Naomi kissed her forehead.
“Were you good for Aunt Julie?”
“Yep! And Mr. Dante gave me chocolate.”
Julie looked at me.
“Apparently, you've discovered the fastest way to win her over.”
“I'm learning.”
Lily took Naomi's hand and led her toward a drawing she'd made.
It showed three people holding hands under a yellow sun.
A woman.
A little girl.
And a tall man with dark hair.
“That's Mommy,” Lily explained. “That's me.”
Naomi glanced at the third figure.
“And who's that?”
“Mr. Dante. Because he has my eyes.”
Naomi looked at me.
Something unspoken passed between us.
Then Gabriel's phone vibrated.
He answered immediately.
I watched his expression change.
“What do you mean, someone entered the building?”
He listened.
“Did they reach the apartment?”
My chest tightened.
Gabriel turned toward me.
“Dante, a man used a security credential to access the building's service entrance.”
“Whose credential?”
May you like
Gabriel looked genuinely shaken.
“Mine.”
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