Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE DEAD MAN'S ROOM
Carlo Moretti's “secret room” was behind a bookcase.
Of course it was.
At that point, nothing about Michael's life surprised me.
The entrance required a key Michael claimed he hadn't used in years.
Dust covered the shelves.
Old shipping manifests filled steel cabinets.
A cracked leather chair sat behind a desk.
Zach stayed upstairs with his nanny while Michael and I searched.
“Why didn't you clear this out?”
“My father asked me not to.”
“Your father is alive?”
Michael gave me a look.
“Yes.”
“Sorry. I'm losing track of which Morettis are dead, dangerous, or secretly hiding rooms.”
“That makes two of us.”
I almost smiled.
Then we found the photographs.
There were dozens.
Dockworkers.
Accountants.
Politicians.
Warehouse entrances.
And me.
I was seventeen in the first photograph.
Standing outside my high school.
In another, I sat beside my father at a diner.
In another, I was carrying groceries into our old apartment.
My skin crawled.
“Why was he watching me?”
Michael examined the dates.
“These started after your father began auditing us.”
One photograph had been taken only two weeks before Dad died.
On the back:
DANIEL'S INSURANCE.
I stared at the words.
“I was leverage.”
Michael didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
A second folder contained photographs of Regina.
She had known Carlo.
For years.
One picture showed them kissing outside a hotel.
I nearly dropped it.
“My stepmother?”
Michael took the photo.
“Date says nine years ago.”
“My father was alive nine years ago.”
Regina hadn't simply married Dad after my mother died.
She had been connected to Carlo before Dad's death.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Michael searched another drawer.
Locked.
He forced it open.
Inside was a cassette recorder, a ring of keys, and an envelope marked DANIEL BELL.
My hands shook opening it.
The letter inside was written by my father.
If Aurora is reading this, then I failed.
I covered my mouth.
Michael moved beside me but didn't touch me.
Dad wrote that he had discovered a laundering operation inside Moretti Shipping.
Carlo was diverting millions through fake harbor contractors.
But Carlo wasn't acting alone.
Someone inside law enforcement was protecting him.
Dad planned to take the evidence to federal investigators.
He had hidden copies.
Then came a sentence that changed everything.
Regina knows where the original ledger is. I made the mistake of trusting her.
I stared at the words.
“My father trusted her.”
Michael's voice was quiet.
“And she betrayed him.”
I kept reading.
Aurora, if Regina ever tells you I left debt behind, don't believe her. There is no debt.
I thought of Regina screaming through the restaurant door.
Tony's men are outside.
I'm not losing fifty thousand dollars.
All of it had been manufactured.
But why now?
Why after eight years?
The final paragraph gave us our answer.
The money Carlo stole was never recovered.
The access key is not a number.
It is tied to Aurora.
Michael read over my shoulder.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Then something fell from the envelope.
A small brass key.
Stamped with two letters.
A.B.
My initials.
And beneath them:
BOX 614.
Michael immediately called one of his men.
Within an hour, he had the location.
A private bank in Manhattan.
Box 614 had been rented nine years earlier.
By Daniel Bell.
But the access file contained a second authorized name.
Not Regina.
Not Michael.
Aurora Bell.
I had been granted access when I turned twenty-one.
Four years ago.
I had never known the box existed.
Then Michael's security chief called.
His expression changed as he listened.
“What?”
May you like
Michael looked directly at me.
“Someone opened Box 614 yesterday.”
