Chapter 8 - THE MONEY STOLEN IN MY NAME
Six hundred thousand dollars had moved through an account opened under my identity.
For three years, I had struggled to pay rent.
Bought Sophia's clothes secondhand.
Skipped meals when medical bills arrived.
And worked double shifts while someone used my name to move money.
I stared at Isabella.
“Why?”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn’t know it was your identity.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My name is literally on the account.”
“Victor told me Rosa Bennett was a dead beneficiary.”
My stomach tightened.
“You believed that?”
“He said Luca created false beneficiaries to hide money.”
Dante looked toward her.
“And you helped move it?”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
Then she whispered:
“I thought I was protecting the family.”
Dante’s face changed.
“You were protecting Victor.”
“I know that now.”
She began crying.
But I wasn't ready to feel sorry for her.
“You visited my daughter.”
Her eyes opened.
“Yes.”
“You brought her candy.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me struggle.”
Tears slipped down her face.
“I didn't know.”
I stepped closer.
“That's the problem.”
Silence.
Then Isabella looked toward Dante.
“There’s something else.”
He waited.
“Victor didn’t just use me for the accounts.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he do?”
She wiped her face.
“He told me Carmela was planning to leave you.”
Dante froze.
“What?”
“He showed me letters.”
“Letters from Carmela?”
“I thought so.”
The attorney immediately asked whether she still had them.
Isabella nodded.
She'd kept copies.
The letters described fear.
Secret plans.
And an intention to leave Chicago.
But when compared with verified samples of Carmela's handwriting, several details were wrong.
The signatures looked convincing.
The letter formation did not.
They were likely fabricated.
Someone had been preparing a story.
A story that Carmela wanted to disappear.
That made her death look less connected to Dante's enemies.
Then Isabella revealed one final detail.
“Victor asked me to convince Carmela to attend the charity luncheon.”
Dante stopped breathing.
“What?”
“She didn't want to go.”
His voice dropped.
“And you convinced her?”
Isabella began crying harder.
“Yes.”
The room turned cold.
The luncheon where Carmela died.
The vehicle she took instead of Dante.
The ambush at four o'clock.
Isabella hadn't known about the attack.
But she'd helped put Carmela in the exact place Victor needed her to be.
Then Sophia wandered into the doorway.
She was holding the white stuffed rabbit Isabella had given her weeks earlier.
My stomach dropped.
I had never seen it before.
“Sophia, where did you get that?”
She smiled.
“Bella.”
Isabella went white.
Dante looked at the toy.
Then at his cousin.
“What's inside it?”
“I don't know.”
Sophia hugged the rabbit.
“It talks.”
I froze.
“What?”
She pressed its paw.
A tiny electronic voice crackled from inside.
Not a children's song.
A recording.
Victor Salerno’s voice.
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And he was saying:
“At four o'clock, Carmela's car will be alone.”
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