Chapter 1 - THE LETTER WITH MY SIGNATURE
“Brooklyn?”
Dominic’s voice changed.
Not louder.
Sharper.
Lily nodded as though taking two trains across New York alone in the middle of a snowstorm was an ordinary Tuesday.
“I know which train.”
Marco Bellini looked ready to stop breathing.
“You came here alone?”
“My grandma showed me before she got sick.”
Dominic looked at the repaired stuffed rabbit tucked beneath Lily’s arm.
“Where is your mother?”
The little girl’s mouth trembled.
“At home.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
A guilty pause.
“No.”
Dominic closed his eyes briefly.
Six years old.
Wrong boots.
Snow outside.
Train alone.
Whatever had driven her to Forty-Eighth Street mattered.
He held out his hand.
“May I see the paper?”
Lily hesitated.
Then gave him the folded letter.
Moretti Hospitality Group letterhead.
Employee: Emily Carter.
Position: Senior Accounts Compliance Analyst.
Termination effective immediately.
Reason: breach of confidentiality and unauthorized access to executive financial files.
Dominic read the final paragraph.
Then his own name.
DOMINIC A. MORETTI
CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER
His signature appeared beneath it.
A very good imitation.
Good enough that most people would never question it.
Dominic did.
He had never signed termination letters.
Not one.
Human Resources handled them.
And when an employee at Emily’s level was dismissed for confidentiality violations, legal reviewed everything first.
He looked at Marco.
“Who runs personnel termination authority for compliance?”
“Vice president level goes through Lombardi. Everyone else through HR.”
“Get both.”
Marco nodded.
Then Dominic read Emily’s name again.
Carter.
Seventeen years earlier.
His father’s study.
The doors nearly closed.
Dominic, twenty-one, standing in the hallway while his father shouted:
“You promised Margaret Carter that girl would be protected.”
Another man answered:
“Emily is not your responsibility.”
Dominic had forgotten the rest.
Or tried to.
He looked at Lily.
“Your mother worked here?”
“She still says she does.”
That answer made him frown.
“What do you mean?”
“She keeps getting dressed in the morning.”
Lily looked down at her rabbit.
“Then she remembers.”
Dominic felt something tighten behind his ribs.
“When was she fired?”
“Monday.”
Today was Thursday.
“Why didn’t she come speak to anyone?”
“She said rich people don’t listen when the paper already says they decided.”
Several executives behind Dominic became suddenly interested in the marble floor.
Dominic folded the letter.
“Lily.”
“Yes?”
“I did not sign this.”
She stared at him.
“Then who did?”
Good question.
Then she remembered something.
“Oh.”
She crouched and opened the little backpack at her feet.
From inside, she removed a shoebox wrapped with faded blue ribbon.
“My grandma said if something bad happened to Mommy at Moretti, I had to give you this.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
“What was your grandmother’s name?”
“Margaret Carter.”
The lobby disappeared around him.
He knew that name.
His father had said it seventeen years ago.
Lily placed the shoebox in his hands.
On top was one envelope.
DOMINIC MORETTI — PERSONAL.
The stamp was fourteen years old.
The envelope had never been opened.
May you like
And written beneath his name, in a different hand, were four words:
DO NOT DELIVER TO HIM.
