Chapter 9 - THE TOY THAT HELD FORTY MILLION DOLLARS OF SECRETS
The blue elephant looked ridiculous sitting in the middle of Rebecca's conference table.
One button eye.
Faded fabric.
A crooked trunk.
And inside its stomach was a flash drive that might prove years of fraud.
Mom laughed when she saw it.
“You loved that thing.”
“I was eight.”
“You took it everywhere.”
Tyler looked at me.
“You still have stuffed animals?”
I gave him a look.
“Say another word and college disappears.”
For the first time in days, everyone laughed.
Then Rebecca carefully opened the old stitching.
The drive was still there.
We preserved it properly.
Hours later, the files were copied and reviewed.
My mother had saved complaints from families whose medical assistance vanished.
Invoices for equipment never delivered.
Housing grants approved but never paid.
Renovation projects marked complete while buildings remained unsafe.
And internal messages connecting Lorenzo Moretti to Charles Sloan.
Garrett's father.
My hands tightened.
Then Rebecca found something else.
A list of scholarship accounts.
One carried Tyler's name.
He stared.
“What?”
The account had been established ten years earlier.
Before Dad disappeared.
Funded by Antonio Moretti.
My brother looked toward Vincent.
“Why would your father pay for my college?”
Vincent shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Dad read the memo attached.
His face softened.
“Antonio created education trusts for the children of people helping the investigation.”
My throat tightened.
That meant my father had planned for Tyler's future even while preparing to disappear.
Mom started crying.
Tyler looked down.
“I was going to delay school because we couldn't afford it.”
I touched his shoulder.
“You're still starting in January.”
He laughed through tears.
“Apparently you really mean that.”
I smiled.
“I always did.”
The scholarship trust had been frozen after Antonio's death.
Lorenzo gained control.
And for nine years, the money sat untouched.
Not because Tyler was ineligible.
Because someone deliberately hid it.
I looked toward Vincent.
His jaw tightened.
“How many families?”
Rebecca continued searching.
“Twenty-three accounts.”
Children of nurses.
Inspectors.
Accountants.
Construction workers.
People who had helped expose the fraud.
Money intended to protect their futures had been locked away.
Vincent sat silently.
Then said:
“Restore them.”
Rebecca looked up.
“That's not entirely within your control.”
“I know.”
He nodded.
“Then support whatever legal process is needed.”
For the first time, I realized Vincent wasn't trying to fix the world with one order.
He was learning.
Slowly.
Then another file opened.
A photograph.
My father standing beside Antonio Moretti.
Between them was a little boy.
I frowned.
“Who is that?”
Vincent stared.
His face went white.
“That's me.”
The picture had been taken when he was thirteen.
Dad looked at him.
“You don't remember me?”
Vincent shook his head.
Dad smiled sadly.
“I drove you to the hospital the night your father was shot.”
Vincent stopped breathing.
Then Dad added:
“And Antonio didn't die that night.”
The room went silent.
Vincent looked as if the floor had disappeared beneath him.
“What?”
Dad swallowed.
“Your father survived.”
Teresa covered her mouth.
Vincent whispered:
“Then where is he?”
May you like
Dad looked toward the encrypted files.
“I think Lorenzo kept him alive.”
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