Chapter 8 - THE ACCOUNT WITH NORA’S NAME
I had never been to the Cayman Islands.
Apparently, my money had.
At least on paper.
The account was opened eighteen months earlier.
Account holder:
Nora Caruso.
Initial deposit:
$2.8 million.
Source:
Caruso Design Group licensing subsidiary.
I stared.
“I’ve never seen this.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Convenient.”
Rebecca examined the pages.
“Copies are not authentication.”
Vanessa smiled.
“Then authenticate them.”
Dominic looked at the documents.
His expression changed.
Not suspicion.
Recognition.
“What?”
I asked.
He turned toward Anthony.
His brother had joined the meeting as chief operating officer.
Anthony looked sick.
“Anthony?”
Dominic stood.
“You opened it.”
Anthony shook his head.
“No.”
“You used the family office.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re the only one besides me with signing authority.”
Anthony stood too.
“Not the only one.”
His eyes moved toward Vanessa.
She went still.
Rebecca caught it.
“What authority did Ms. Moretti have?”
Anthony answered:
“Temporary treasury access during the Milan acquisition.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“That ended two years ago.”
“Access tokens remained active.”
Dominic swore.
The board immediately requested transaction logs.
The account had been created through an outside wealth-management firm.
Identity verification used a copy of my passport.
Where would Vanessa get my passport?
Then I remembered.
A company retreat in Italy three years ago.
Dominic’s assistant collected travel documents for private aviation.
Vanessa worked on that trip.
My stomach turned.
“What was the account used for?”
The answer came forty minutes later.
Money entered.
Then left.
Every payment routed to vendors connected to the bridal collection.
Fabric suppliers.
Marketing agencies.
Consultants.
The account made it appear as though I had been secretly receiving money related to designs I now claimed were stolen.
A perfect defense.
Vanessa could argue I had been paid.
Rebecca asked:
“Where did the funds ultimately go?”
Investigators followed transfers.
Then one final beneficiary appeared.
VM Holdings.
Vanessa Moretti.
The room went silent.
Vanessa’s attorney whispered urgently.
She ignored him.
“This proves nothing.”
Rebecca almost laughed.
“You created an account in Nora’s name, paid it from Caruso, then moved the money into your own holding company.”
“You can’t prove I created it.”
Then Dominic spoke.
“I can.”
Everyone turned.
He looked destroyed.
“Why?” Vanessa asked.
Dominic reached inside his briefcase.
“I found the account three weeks ago.”
I stared.
“Three weeks?”
He nodded.
“Before the gala.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was investigating.”
Of course.
Always alone.
Always deciding who deserved information.
“What did you find?”
“Security footage from the wealth-management office.”
He placed photographs on the table.
Vanessa entering.
Vanessa leaving.
No disguise.
No ambiguity.
She stared at Dominic.
“You had this.”
“Yes.”
“And still launched the collection?”
“Yes.”
The board chair looked furious.
“Why?”
Dominic’s voice became quiet.
“Because if Vanessa was removed before the sale, lenders could call our debt.”
I felt numb.
He had known Vanessa committed fraud against me.
And still protected her.
Again.
Vanessa laughed.
“You see?”
She looked at me.
“He doesn’t choose you.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
I waited for that sentence to hurt.
It didn’t.
Because I already knew.
Then Dominic said:
“She’s right.”
The room froze.
He looked at me.
“I didn’t choose you.”
My chest tightened.
“I chose fear.”
He turned toward the board.
“And because of that, I am resigning as CEO effective immediately.”
Vanessa’s smile disappeared.
I stared at him.
“What?”
He continued.
“An interim executive should oversee the investigation.”
The board erupted.
Dominic raised his hand.
Then looked at me.
“I should have done this eighteen months ago.”
His voice broke slightly.
“And I should have done something far more important five years ago.”
No one understood except me.
Let me design.
Let me exist beside him.
Let me become something he could not control.
Then the board chair asked:
“Who do you recommend as interim CEO?”
Dominic looked toward Anthony.
Then away.
Finally:
“No Caruso.”
The room went quiet.
“Bring in someone independent.”
For the first time, he was voluntarily giving up control.
Then Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She turned toward me.
“The family court just received an emergency filing.”
My stomach dropped.
“From who?”
“Dominic’s father.”
I stared.
“For what?”
May you like
Rebecca’s voice hardened.
“Temporary custody of Eli.”
