Chapter 9 - WHY VANESSA REQUESTED ME AGAIN AND AGAIN
Vanessa finally told me everything.
Not excuses.
Sequence.
That mattered.
Six months earlier, she discovered her mother’s storage unit.
She found the blue ledger.
Saw James Carter’s name.
Saw mine.
Then saw the joint-control clause.
She researched me.
Delivery driver.
Cicero.
Mother on dialysis.
Former competitive fighter.
She did not believe it.
“How did you feel?”
“Angry.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought your father destroyed my family.”
“How?”
Her father William had spent years telling Vanessa that James forced Elena into hiding.
That James exposed financial records.
That Elena chose witness protection over her daughter because of him.
So Vanessa blamed James.
Then me.
Not rational.
But resentment rarely is.
She requested me.
Wanted to see who I was.
Then Dominic independently requested me after recognizing the surname.
Neither knew the other was doing it.
“What were you trying to accomplish?”
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“Humiliate you.”
At least she admitted it.
“Why gloves?”
“To make you feel small.”
“Why keep requesting me?”
“Because you kept coming.”
That hurt in a different way.
“I needed money.”
“I know that now.”
Again.
Late knowledge.
Then Vanessa said she also hoped I would reveal whether I knew about M13.
She left hints.
Mentioned family money near me.
Mentioned Moretti shipments.
I never reacted.
Because I knew nothing.
That frustrated her.
Then at the gala, she saw me talking to a retired Marlowe executive.
He recognized my last name.
Vanessa panicked.
She thought I was finally making contact.
The cake accident gave her an excuse to push me.
Then Mom.
The insult.
The slap.
The moment everything broke open.
“You could have asked me.”
“I know.”
“Instead you treated me like dirt.”
“Yes.”
“Because you thought pain would make me reveal something.”
“Yes.”
I hated her.
But the honesty made the hatred cleaner.
Then Dominic asked:
“Did William tell you to request Avery?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“No.”
That helped.
One choice belonged solely to Vanessa.
Then federal investigators interviewed William.
He admitted moving M13 funds.
He claimed he was following instructions from Victor.
Victor denied it.
Then Elena produced proof that neither man controlled the deepest account.
A master authorization code existed.
C-01.
Carter line.
Who had it?
James.
After his death?
Unknown.
The last use of C-01 occurred three hours before the warehouse collapse.
Transfer:
$6 million moved out of M13.
Destination:
CARTER INDUSTRIAL HOLDINGS.
My father moved money into his own recovery company before he died.
Why?
Protection?
Theft?
No answer.
Then one hour later:
$6 million moved again.
Out of Carter Industrial.
Destination:
LINDEN MEDICAL TRUST.
No one recognized it.
Melissa searched.
Linden Medical Trust funded long-term medical care.
One current beneficiary:
Linda Carter.
My mother.
My blood turned cold.
Mom’s dialysis.
Her nursing support.
Medication assistance.
For years, I thought insurance and small aid programs covered pieces.
Apparently a hidden trust had been paying too.
“How much?”
Nearly $900,000 over eight years.
Mom had never received cash.
Providers did.
Someone had been quietly funding her care.
“Who controls Linden?”
Melissa looked uncomfortable.
“Victor Moretti.”
I closed my eyes.
Victor again.
Everything always returned to him.
Then Victor finally agreed to video conference.
Old.
Immaculate.
Unapologetic.
“Did you kill my father?”
“No.”
“Did you know who did?”
“I know who benefited.”
“Who?”
He looked at Dominic.
“Anthony.”
Dominic went still.
“Your father received control of James’s disputed M13 branch after the death.”
“So Anthony ordered it?”
“No.”
“Then stop speaking in riddles.”
Victor’s expression softened slightly.
“You have your father’s temper.”
“I have twenty-seven years of people lying to me.”
Fair.
Then Victor said:
“Anthony thought James was stealing.”
“Was he?”
“No.”
“He moved six million.”
“To protect it.”
“From who?”
Victor paused.
“From me.”
That surprised everyone.
“Why?”
“Because James stopped trusting me.”
“Was he right?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Victor admitted he had lied about M13 balances.
Used funds to protect Moretti assets.
Not for himself.
For the family.
But James saw no difference.
He was right.
Then:
“James planned to take the ledger to federal investigators.”
“Did Anthony know?”
“Yes.”
“Did Anthony stop him?”
“He tried.”
“What does that mean?”
“They met.”
“The night before.”
“Yes.”
“Did they fight?”
“Yes.”
“Did Anthony threaten him?”
“Yes.”
My pulse hammered.
“Then?”
“James left.”
“And the next morning?”
Victor closed his eyes.
“The platform failed.”
“Who ordered the bolts removed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who signed the maintenance log?”
“Not James.”
“Who forged it?”
Victor opened his eyes.
“Someone in security.”
“Name.”
A pause.
“Michael Moretti.”
Dominic’s older brother.
Dominic went completely still.
“I don’t have a brother.”
May you like
Victor looked at him.
“Yes, you do.”
