Chapter 7 - THE BOARDROOM
By 11:45 a.m., every financial reporter in Boston seemed to be standing outside Moretti Holdings.
Camera crews crowded the sidewalk.
Satellite vans blocked half the street.
My name was trending online beside words like FRAUD, MISSING MILLIONS, and FOUNDATION SCANDAL.
Camille had moved quickly.
She always did when attention was available.
Someone had provided reporters with copies of invoices showing fraudulent Foundation payments.
The documents were real.
The conclusion was not.
Every approval page had been arranged to make it look as if I had personally authorized the transactions.
Natalie spotted the manipulation immediately.
“Your signature is digital,” she said as our SUV entered the underground garage. “They copied authorization credentials.”
“Can we prove it?”
“Yes.”
“How fast?”
“Not before the board meeting.”
“Then we walk in without it.”
Elena sat across from me.
She wore borrowed clothes from Lucia because hers had been taken as evidence.
A simple navy blouse.
Black pants.
Her arm remained bandaged.
“You don’t need me in the meeting.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because the trust is part of this.”
“I’m not a board member.”
“No.”
“An attorney?”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Then what am I?”
“The person whose money they stole.”
That ended the argument.
Marco met us inside.
“Daniel isn’t here.”
“Nicholas?”
“No.”
“Camille?”
Marco’s mouth tightened.
“She’s upstairs.”
I stopped.
“In my building?”
“She arrived twenty minutes ago with an attorney.”
“Of course she did.”
“And reporters.”
“Of course she did.”
Elena looked at me.
“Are rich people always this exhausting?”
“Yes.”
That earned a small laugh.
I needed it more than I wanted to admit.
The boardroom occupied the forty-first floor.
My father had built it to intimidate people.
Black walnut table.
Floor-to-ceiling glass.
Boston spread below like a city someone could own.
When I entered, twelve directors looked at me.
Some concerned.
Some angry.
Two already guilty.
I knew them immediately.
People underestimate the value of silence.
If you don’t rush to fill it, other people reveal themselves.
Camille stood near the window.
White suit.
No engagement ring.
She looked flawless.
If I hadn’t watched her burn Elena less than twenty-four hours earlier, I might have mistaken her for the victim she intended to portray.
Her attorney approached me.
“Mr. Moretti.”
I ignored him.
Camille’s eyes moved to Elena.
Her mouth curved.
“You brought the maid.”
Elena answered before I could.
“My name is Elena.”
Camille blinked.
Elena continued.
“You’ve heard it enough times while yelling at me.”
One of the directors looked away to hide a smile.
Camille’s face hardened.
I took my usual seat at the head of the table.
“Let’s begin.”
Board member Richard Hale cleared his throat.
“Gabriel, Daniel circulated serious allegations.”
“Daniel isn’t here.”
“He said he feared retaliation.”
I leaned back.
“From whom?”
Nobody answered.
I almost laughed.
They all knew my reputation.
I had inherited that too.
Camille stepped forward.
“From you.”
I looked at her.
She continued.
“Daniel discovered Foundation money was being redirected through companies connected to your private business interests.”
“That’s false.”
“He has records.”
“So do I.”
Natalie placed folders in front of every director.
Camille’s confidence shifted slightly.
“What is this?”
“Evidence.”
Natalie took over.
She explained the blue ledger.
North Harbor.
Adrian’s companies.
The forged approvals.
Then she introduced Elena’s family trust.
Board members began reading.
Their expressions changed.
Camille interrupted.
“This is irrelevant.”
Elena looked at her.
“You stole from a charity using the same company that stole my inheritance.”
“I did nothing of the kind.”
“Your brother’s company received three-point-one million dollars.”
“Business contracts.”
“For services it never performed.”
“You’re a maid. You wouldn’t understand.”
The insult echoed.
I watched several board members react.
Good.
Let Camille keep talking.
Elena didn’t flinch.
“You’re right.”
Camille seemed surprised.
“I don’t understand how someone could take money meant for shelters and sick children while wearing a five-thousand-dollar dress.”
Lucia, joining by video, muttered, “Six thousand.”
Camille glared at the screen.
Elena continued.
“But I understand invoices.”
I looked at her.
That was new.
Camille laughed.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“My mother taught bookkeeping.”
I remembered Evelyn Brooks had worked in finance.
Elena opened the blue ledger.
“North Harbor charged the Foundation $184,000 for transportation services in March.”
Board member Hale looked down.
Elena continued.
“According to the invoice, they transported families from three shelters.”
“Yes,” Camille said. “Exactly.”
Elena turned a page.
“Those shelters were closed for renovations that month.”
Silence.
Camille froze.
Elena looked at Lucia’s screen.
“Ms. Moretti confirmed it.”
Lucia nodded.
“All three.”
Elena turned another page.
“Prescott Development charged $270,000 for temporary housing in June.”
Camille crossed her arms.
“And?”
“The listed building doesn’t exist.”
Richard Hale frowned.
“What?”
Elena slid a photograph across the table.
“The address is a parking lot.”
One director actually laughed.
Camille’s face reddened.
“You went through private documents?”
“Documents funded by a public charity.”
Natalie stepped in.
“And now under subpoena preservation.”
That wiped away the last of Camille’s confidence.
The doors opened.
Everyone turned.
Nicholas Moretti entered.
My uncle looked older than he had two days earlier.
His silver hair was uncombed.
His tie hung loose.
A bandage covered one hand.
He walked slowly toward the table.
Camille stared at him.
“Where have you been?”
Nicholas ignored her.
He looked at me.
“We need to talk.”
“You had eleven years.”
His eyes moved to Elena.
Pain crossed his face.
“You look like Evelyn.”
Elena stood.
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You stole from her.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Nobody moved.
Camille snapped, “Don’t be dramatic, Nicholas.”
He turned toward her.
“You should stop talking.”
Her face changed.
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
“No. That was one of my mistakes.”
Nicholas sat.
He looked at the board.
“Gabriel did not steal Foundation money.”
Richard Hale leaned forward.
“Then who did?”
Nicholas looked at Camille.
“She did.”
Camille laughed.
“You’re lying.”
“And Daniel Mercer.”
That got my attention.
“And you?” I asked.
Nicholas looked at me.
“Yes.”
The board erupted.
Questions.
Arguments.
I raised one hand.
Silence returned.
Nicholas spoke.
“Eleven years ago, I diverted money through North Harbor.”
“How much?”
“Seven million.”
Lucia whispered something unrepeatable.
Nicholas continued.
“Anthony discovered it.”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“He covered for you.”
Nicholas looked ashamed.
“He made me repay it.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“He covered for me.”
The room felt colder.
Elena stood across from him.
“And my mother?”
Nicholas looked at her.
“She discovered it.”
“What did you do?”
“I threatened her.”
My hands curled beneath the table.
“With what?”
“Her job.”
“That’s all?”
Nicholas hesitated.
Elena noticed.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
Her voice became quiet.
“What else?”
“I told her no company in Boston would hire her if she spoke.”
Elena’s eyes filled with tears.
Nicholas looked down.
“She went to Anthony anyway.”
“My father helped her?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“For once.”
The bitterness in Nicholas’s voice surprised me.
“He created the trust for her children. He bought the property so she could move.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“She refused.”
Elena frowned.
“Why?”
“She said she wouldn’t be bought.”
That sounded exactly like Elena.
Nicholas continued.
“Anthony placed the money in trust anyway.”
“And you changed the beneficiary.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“After he died, Daniel convinced me the trust could expose North Harbor.”
“So you stole it again.”
Nicholas nodded.
Elena turned away.
I wanted to throw Nicholas through the window.
Instead, I kept my hands flat on the table.
“What changed three years ago?”
“Daniel.”
“What about him?”
“He discovered the old network.”
“And?”
“He realized what I had realized years earlier.”
“That hidden transactions are easy to abuse.”
“Yes.”
Nicholas rubbed his face.
“Then Camille found out.”
Camille stepped back.
“Do not bring me into your crimes.”
Nicholas laughed.
“You blackmailed me.”
“I protected myself.”
“You told me if I blocked Adrian’s contracts, you would give the original North Harbor records to federal investigators.”
The boardroom exploded again.
Camille pointed at Nicholas.
“He is a criminal!”
“So are you.”
“At least I didn’t invent the system!”
“No,” Nicholas said. “You simply stole from women escaping men like us.”
That sentence ended every argument.
Camille’s face turned white.
Her attorney whispered to her.
She ignored him.
Then she looked at me.
“You’re really going to believe this?”
“I believe records.”
“You loved me.”
“I loved the person you pretended to be.”
Her expression twisted.
“And now what?”
She pointed at Elena.
“You replace me with her?”
Elena stiffened.
I stood.
“This has nothing to do with romance.”
Camille laughed bitterly.
“Please.”
“No. This is exactly why you never understood me.”
I stepped around the table.
“You thought everyone had a price because you did.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You think she doesn’t?”
I stopped.
Camille reached into her handbag.
Her attorney grabbed her arm.
“Camille.”
She pulled away and threw a photograph onto the table.
Elena looked down.
Her face drained.
The photograph showed me outside the Providence hospital.
Elena beside me.
My hand against her back.
An innocent moment.
Photographed from the right angle, it looked intimate.
Camille smiled.
“I sent that to every outlet downstairs.”
I stared at her.
“You think that helps you?”
“It helps people understand why you suddenly care so much about your maid.”
Elena looked horrified.
Camille continued.
“I also sent them the footage from last night.”
My blood went cold.
“What footage?”
“The dining room.”
Marco stepped forward.
“There are no cameras in the dining room.”
Camille smiled.
“Mine.”
She had recorded us.
“You recorded private dinners?”
“For my safety.”
Her smile widened.
“And I edited the part people need to see.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
“You idiot.”
Camille looked at her.
“What?”
Natalie stood.
“You just admitted to distributing manipulated evidence during an active investigation.”
Camille’s smile disappeared.
Before anyone could speak, my phone vibrated.
A news alert.
I opened it.
Video.
Headline:
BILLIONAIRE GABRIEL MORETTI ACCUSED OF THREATENING FIANCÉE AFTER SECRET RELATIONSHIP WITH HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYEE.
The clip showed me removing my ring.
Camille crying.
Elena in the background.
It cut away before the attack with the tea.
Perfectly edited.
I looked at Camille.
She smiled again.
“Let’s see whose story people believe.”
Then the boardroom doors opened one more time.
Two federal investigators entered.
The woman in front showed identification.
“Gabriel Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“We need to speak with you about the Moretti Foundation.”
Camille looked victorious.
Until the investigator turned toward her.
“And Camille Prescott.”
Her smile vanished.
The investigator continued.
“Neither of you should leave the building.”
Camille stared at me.
I stared back.
Then Elena leaned toward me.
“Gabriel.”
“What?”
She was looking at the television mounted on the wall.
The news had switched to live footage outside.
Reporters were shouting.
People were gathering.
And standing directly in front of the cameras was Adrian Prescott.
Camille’s brother.
He looked terrified.
A reporter pushed a microphone toward him.
Adrian spoke.
“My sister didn’t act alone.”
Camille ran toward the screen.
Adrian continued.
“Gabriel Moretti deserves to know who planned all of it.”
He took a shaking breath.
“The person behind the Foundation theft is still inside Moretti Holdings.”
Then he said a name none of us expected.
“Marco Bellini.”
Every person in the boardroom turned toward my head of security.
May you like
Marco didn’t move.
But for the first time in twenty years, I couldn’t read his face.
