Chapter 8 - Skeletons in the Closet
|
By sunrise, the Moretti private estate felt less like a mob fortress and more like an impenetrable sanctuary.
The guest wing was larger than our entire apartment building, featuring vaulted ceilings, marble fireplaces, and tall French windows overlooking manicured gardens.
Emma had finally fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep in the master bedroom down the hall, safe beneath silk sheets.
I could not sleep.
The adrenaline of surviving the night still hummed through my veins.
I walked quietly down the grand oak staircase into the estate’s main library, where a soft light spilled across the Persian rug.
Luca was sitting behind a massive antique mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of manila folders and glowing laptop screens.
Two forensic accountants were packing up their briefcases, speaking in hushed, serious tones.
“Every single transaction over the last four years points directly to Bellini shell corporations, Boss,” one accountant whispered.
“Over twelve million dollars siphoned out of the children’s charity accounts.”
Luca nodded grimly, dismissing the men with a slight wave of his hand.
As the accountants exited, Luca looked up and noticed me standing near the tall mahogany bookshelves.
“You should be resting, Caroline,” he said, rubbing his tired eyes.
“I tried,” I replied softly, stepping into the room.
“My mind won't stop racing.”
Luca leaned back in his leather executive chair and gestured toward the velvet armchair across from him.
“Sit with me. We found something you need to see.”
My heart fluttered with a sudden sense of unease as I sat down.
On the desk in front of Luca sat an old, scuffed cardboard storage box stamped with the Bellini family seal.
“When Vanessa left the estate last night, she demanded her personal files from the upstairs office,” Luca explained.
“My security team searched every box before allowing anything to leave the grounds.”
Luca pulled a thick, weathered file from the box and slid it across the polished wood toward me.
My breath hitched in my throat when I saw the name printed on the faded label:
David Hayes – Confidential Investigation File.
“David?” I gasped, my fingers trembling as I reached for the folder.
“This is my husband’s name.”
“Your late husband was an auditor for the Illinois Department of Healthcare and Family Services, wasn’t he?” Luca asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, tears instantly burning behind my eyes.
“He died eight years ago in a hit-and-run accident on the Dan Ryan Expressway.”
“The police told me it was a drunk driver who never got caught.”
Luca shook his head slowly, his jaw set in a grim, furious line.
“It wasn’t a drunk driver, Caroline.”
He opened the folder, revealing crime scene photos, bank statements, and internal police reports that had been buried for nearly a decade.
“Eight years ago, David uncovered a massive Medicare fraud scheme being run through private nursing homes across Chicago.”
“Those nursing homes were owned by Salvatore Bellini and managed by his daughter, Vanessa.”
The room seemed to spin around me as the horrific truth crashed down upon my shoulders.
“David was about to deliver his findings to the federal grand jury,” Luca continued, his voice heavy with sorrow.
“Two days before he was scheduled to testify, he was killed.”
I pressed my trembling hands against my mouth, stifling a scream of anguish that threatened to tear out of my chest.
“All this time…” I choked out, the room blurring through my tears.
“All these years, I thought it was just terrible, meaningless bad luck.”
“It gets worse, Caroline,” Luca said, his eyes darkening with dangerous intent.
May you like
“Vanessa didn't hire you as a maid three years ago by accident.”
“She sought you out on purpose.”
