Chapter 4 - The Secret Isabella Kept for Seven Years
Emma returned to the Moretti residence the following afternoon.
She almost didn’t go.
Her father was stable, but the hospital wanted to keep him another night. Sophie promised to stay with him.
That left Emma standing outside a limestone mansion overlooking Lake Michigan, wondering how her dead mother could possibly be connected to the family inside.
Vincent met her in the library.
He was no longer wearing a tuxedo.
Dark trousers.
White shirt.
Sleeves rolled once.
Without the ballroom and the crowd, he seemed less intimidating.
Not less powerful.
Just more human.
“How is your father?”
“Better.”
“I’m glad.”
Emma nodded.
“Where’s Isabella?”
“Waiting for you.”
He led her into a sunroom.
Isabella sat near tall windows overlooking the lake.
When she saw Emma, her face softened.
“My brave girl.”
Emma sat opposite her.
“Mrs. Moretti, Marcus said you knew my mother.”
Isabella’s smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“How?”
Isabella looked toward Vincent.
He remained standing near the windows.
Apparently, he didn’t know either.
Isabella took a breath.
“Your mother was named Laura Carter.”
Emma nodded.
“She worked as an accountant.”
“Yes.”
“For Moretti Community Health.”
Emma stared at her.
“My mother worked for a medical nonprofit.”
“That nonprofit belonged to our family foundation.”
Emma looked toward Vincent.
He appeared genuinely surprised.
“She worked for us?”
“For me,” Isabella said.
Vincent frowned.
“You never mentioned her.”
“I promised I wouldn’t.”
Emma leaned forward.
“Promised who?”
“Laura.”
The name sounded strange coming from Isabella.
Personal.
Familiar.
“My mother never mentioned you.”
“She had reasons.”
Isabella folded her hands.
“Seven years ago, Laura discovered irregularities in several foundation accounts.”
Vincent became still.
“What irregularities?”
“Money was being redirected.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
Emma shook her head.
“My mother would have told the police.”
“She intended to.”
Isabella’s eyes filled with sadness.
“But first she came to me.”
“Why?”
“Because one of the names connected to the transfers belonged to someone close to our family.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Who?”
Isabella looked at him.
“Arthur Langford.”
Victoria’s father.
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Isabella continued.
“Laura believed Arthur was using shell organizations to redirect charitable funds into private development projects.”
Emma struggled to process it.
“Did she prove it?”
“She collected records.”
“What happened to them?”
“She gave me copies.”
Vincent stared at his mother.
“And you never told me?”
“You were thirty-five years old and trying to save this company after your father died. Arthur sat on your board. Half the people surrounding you were loyal to him.”
“So you hid it?”
“I protected the evidence.”
Vincent looked furious.
But beneath the anger was hurt.
“From me?”
“Until I knew whom I could trust.”
Emma interrupted.
“My mother died seven years ago.”
The room became quiet.
Laura Carter had died after a sudden illness.
At least, that was what Emma had always understood.
There had been nothing mysterious about it.
Nothing dramatic.
Just cancer discovered too late.
Months of treatment.
Then loss.
“Before she became sick,” Isabella said, “Laura asked me to promise that if anything happened to her, I would never involve her daughters unless the stolen money resurfaced.”
Emma stared at her.
“Daughters?”
Isabella nodded.
“She knew about Sophie?”
“She spoke about both of you constantly.”
Emma looked down.
She could almost hear her mother.
Emma’s the stubborn one.
Sophie worries too much.
Her throat tightened.
“Why was my name on the envelope?”
“Because the money resurfaced.”
Vincent moved closer.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“The trust transfer?”
Isabella nodded.
“Victoria approached me after a foundation meeting. She wanted me to approve changes to voting authority. I became suspicious.”
“So you investigated.”
“I asked an old attorney to examine the documents Laura had given me.”
“And?”
“The same network of companies appeared.”
Vincent stared toward the lake.
“Langford companies?”
“Some. Others were hidden.”
Emma’s mind returned to the ballroom.
“Victoria knew you had the evidence.”
“I believe she suspected.”
“And she wanted your signature before you could tell Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
Isabella smiled sadly.
“Because Laura left something for you.”
Emma’s heart stopped.
“What?”
Isabella reached toward a small locked drawer beside her.
She opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
Emma recognized her mother immediately.
Laura Carter stood beside a younger Isabella Moretti at a charity clinic opening.
Both women were smiling.
Emma touched the photograph.
“I’ve never seen this.”
“There’s more.”
Isabella removed a small brass key.
“Laura rented a safe-deposit box.”
Emma stared at it.
“She instructed me to give this to you only if the financial scheme ever returned.”
Vincent looked at the key.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never opened it?”
“It isn’t mine.”
Emma picked it up.
It felt surprisingly heavy.
“Which bank?”
Isabella handed her a card.
First Lakeshore Bank.
Emma read the box number.
317.
Vincent said, “We’ll go with you.”
Emma looked at him.
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“My mother left it for me.”
“Victoria knows it exists.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She knew about the envelope.”
Emma had no answer.
Vincent lowered his voice.
“I’m not trying to take control of this.”
“Then don’t.”
“I’m trying to make sure you reach the bank safely.”
Emma studied him.
This was a man accustomed to solving problems by giving orders.
Yet he was making an effort not to.
Finally she nodded.
“Marcus can come.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“I was going to say Marcus.”
“You were going to say you.”
“I was considering it.”
“Don’t.”
Isabella laughed softly.
It was the first light moment since Emma arrived.
They agreed to visit the bank the next morning.
Emma took the photograph and key.
As she stood to leave, Isabella touched her arm.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“Your mother once did for me exactly what you did last night.”
Emma froze.
“What?”
“She stood between me and someone powerful when everyone else was afraid.”
Emma looked at the photograph again.
“Who?”
Isabella’s expression darkened.
“Arthur Langford.”
Before Emma could ask another question, Marcus entered quickly.
“Vincent.”
Something in his tone changed the room.
“What?”
“We found Victoria.”
“Where?”
“At O’Hare.”
“Leaving?”
“She tried.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
Marcus looked at Emma.
“But that isn’t the problem.”
“What is?”
“Victoria didn’t have the missing document.”
“Then who does?”
Marcus held up a tablet.
“We reviewed the blackout footage frame by frame.”
He placed it on the table.
The image showed the ballroom under emergency lighting.
Victoria was moving toward the service corridor.
But another figure stood beside Isabella’s wheelchair.
A man wearing a catering jacket.
Emma leaned closer.
She recognized him.
“That’s the supervisor who bumped into me.”
Marcus nodded.
“He stole your access card.”
Vincent stared at the image.
“Who is he?”
“We ran the employee records.”
“And?”
“He isn’t an employee.”
Emma felt cold.
Marcus enlarged the man’s face.
“He entered the event using false credentials.”
“Who is he really?”
Marcus looked at Vincent.
“His name is Thomas Vale.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
Emma noticed immediately.
“You know him?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
Isabella did.
“He worked for Arthur Langford.”
Marcus nodded.
“Until Arthur died.”
Emma looked around the room.
“So Victoria wasn’t working alone.”
“No,” Vincent said.
His eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
“And if Thomas Vale knows about Laura’s evidence…”
He looked at the brass key in Emma’s hand.
May you like
“…then tomorrow morning may already be too late.”
---
