Chapter 4 - THE LEDGER WRITTEN FOR ME
Gabriel moved me out of the building before sunrise.
I hated every second of it.
The black SUV.
The armed driver.
The security men pretending not to look at me.
It felt too much like stepping into a world I had spent my entire life avoiding.
Gabriel sat beside me.
“You can stay angry.”
“Thank you for your permission.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He looked out the window.
“I should have checked the restaurant sooner.”
“Why?”
“Because my uncle owns part of the property.”
My head snapped toward him.
“What?”
“Through holding companies.”
“Ilvento belongs to Vittorio Rossi?”
“Not officially.”
“Nothing with your family is ever official, is it?”
He didn’t answer.
We arrived at a townhouse on the Upper East Side that looked empty from the street.
Inside, Gabriel gave me the guest room.
“I’m not a prisoner.”
“No.”
“Then I’m leaving when I want.”
“Yes.”
“You’re terrible at controlling people.”
“I’m trying something new.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
We spent the morning photographing Angelo’s ledger while one of Gabriel’s attorneys traced the accounts.
By noon, she called.
“There’s a trust associated with Anna Taylor.”
My heart pounded.
“How much?”
“Originally? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
I stared at the phone.
That was more money than my mother and I had ever seen.
The attorney continued.
“With investment growth and accumulated interest, it should be worth around $1.8 million.”
I couldn’t speak.
My mother’s medical debt was more than $300,000.
I had worked nights for years because I believed we had nothing.
“Where is it?”
A pause.
“That’s the problem.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened.
“What problem?”
“Most of the money was transferred out over the last decade.”
“By who?”
“An administrator with power of attorney.”
My hands went cold.
“My mother couldn’t sign anything after the accident.”
“We know.”
The attorney sent the documents.
Gabriel opened them.
The signature authorizing the withdrawals was supposedly my mother’s.
It wasn’t.
Even I could see that.
The money had been routed into a medical-management company called Northstar Patient Services.
I recognized the name immediately.
“They handle Mom’s bills.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“What?”
“Every month, they send invoices. Administration fees. Specialist fees. Facility surcharges.”
His face changed.
“They were stealing from the trust and billing you separately.”
I felt physically sick.
Someone had drained the money meant to protect my mother, then forced me to pay for the same care.
Gabriel searched the corporate registry.
Northstar was owned by three shell companies.
The final owner appeared on the screen.
Vittorio Rossi.
My hands began shaking.
Gabriel swore quietly.
I looked at the ledger again.
Then noticed something strange.
Beside several entries, Angelo had marked a tiny red circle.
I remembered those circles.
Mr. Cosenza used them when teaching me.
He called them doorways.
Not punctuation.
Instructions.
I followed the marked phrases, taking the first letter of each line.
The message appeared slowly.
THE GIRL WILL READ THIS BETTER THAN THEY WILL.
My heart stopped.
Angelo had written the code for me.
The next line was even worse.
IF TESSA IS READING, I FAILED TO COME BACK.
May you like
And beneath that:
Do not look for me in the grave.
