Chapter 11 - THE HOUSEMAID THEY TRIED TO FRAME
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By the following morning, my photograph was everywhere.
News websites.
Social media.
Television screens in coffee shops across Chicago.
People who had never met me were calling me a thief.
Some accused me of helping murder Matteo.
Others claimed I'd been secretly working for Dario.
One headline described me as the housemaid who knew too much.
Another called me the maid who sold a family's secrets.
I sat alone in the mansion's kitchen, staring at my phone.
There were hundreds of comments.
Some people believed I was innocent.
Most simply enjoyed having someone to blame.
I had never imagined that a single bank account could turn my entire life into a public scandal.
“Claire.”
I looked up.
Sofia stood in the doorway.
She had barely slept since her kidnapping.
But she was holding two cups of coffee.
“You shouldn't read those things,” she whispered.
I quickly put down my phone.
“I'm trying not to.”
She sat opposite me.
“Matteo would be furious.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“I'm scared, Sofia.”
She reached across the table.
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
I swallowed.
“I've worked since I was sixteen.”
“I cleaned hotel rooms, waited tables, and took whatever jobs I could find.”
“When Luca hired me, I thought I'd finally found somewhere I could build a life.”
My voice broke.
“Now people think I'm a criminal.”
Sofia squeezed my hand.
“I know who you are.”
“But the rest of Chicago doesn't.”
She looked at me.
“Then we'll show them.”
Later that morning, Detective Reyes asked me to come to the station.
I agreed immediately.
I had nothing to hide.
But sitting across from a detective while she questioned me about seventy-five thousand dollars was still terrifying.
“Claire, do you recognize this account?”
She showed me a printed statement.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Have you ever used Vale Holdings?”
“No.”
“Did Vanessa ever give you money outside your normal wages?”
“Only occasional holiday bonuses.”
Reyes made a note.
Then she showed me a copy of the identification documents used to open the account.
My stomach dropped.
They were mine.
My driver's license.
My address.
My personal information.
But I had never submitted them to that bank.
“Where did these copies come from?” I whispered.
Reyes looked serious.
“We're investigating that.”
I stared at the documents.
Then I remembered something.
Two weeks before Matteo died, Vanessa had asked me to complete an employee information form.
She claimed Luca wanted updated records for the household staff.
She'd even offered to collect the paperwork herself.
At the time, I'd been grateful.
Now I understood why.
“Vanessa had copies of my identification,” I whispered.
Reyes immediately looked up.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
I explained everything.
The form.
The copies.
The way Vanessa had insisted I return them directly to her.
Reyes listened carefully.
Then she showed me another document.
It was a digital banking authorization bearing my name.
The signature resembled mine.
But the contact telephone number wasn't mine.
Neither was the email address.
The account had been opened remotely.
And someone had arranged for correspondence to be sent elsewhere.
“Who controlled the money?” I asked.
“We're tracing the access records.”
I swallowed.
“Did anyone take it?”
“Most of the funds remained in the account.”
Reyes leaned forward.
“Claire, this may have been created to make you look compromised if you ever became a witness.”
I felt sick.
Dario had seen me watching the garage.
He had known I could identify him.
And instead of simply trusting that I would remain silent, he'd prepared a way to ruin me if I spoke.
For eleven months, someone had kept a false financial trail waiting for the right moment.
When I returned to the mansion, Luca was waiting outside the kitchen.
“I heard about the questioning.”
I nodded.
“I told them everything.”
He looked angry.
“I can have our attorneys issue statements.”
“Please don't threaten the reporters, sir.”
He seemed surprised.
“I wasn't going to.”
I stared at him.
“People already think everyone connected to this family is hiding something.”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
I took a breath.
“Tell the truth.”
He was silent.
“Don't make the story disappear.”
“Don't use your money to frighten people into silence.”
“Just help the police prove what happened.”
Luca looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“You're right.”
That afternoon, he spoke briefly to the press.
He confirmed that investigators were examining possible identity theft involving my personal information.
He refused to speculate about the investigation.
And he made one thing very clear.
“Claire Bennett is a witness who came forward when my family needed the truth.”
“She deserves a fair investigation, not a public conviction based on an anonymous leak.”
It didn't erase the headlines.
But it gave people a reason to question them.
That evening, Sofia and I were sorting through Matteo's photographs when Detective Reyes called.
Investigators had traced access to the false bank account through electronic records linked to the Moretti security office.
Graham Beck's credentials had been used.
More importantly, Vanessa's financial records showed a connection to the payment.
But Reyes had another reason for calling.
“Claire, Vanessa wants to make a statement.”
I went still.
“About what?”
“About the bank account.”
I looked toward Sofia.
She was watching me anxiously.
Reyes continued.
“She says she can prove who created it.”
“Then why hasn't she told you already?”
There was a pause.
“Because she wants to negotiate with prosecutors.”
I closed my eyes.
Even after everything Vanessa had done, she was still thinking about what she could gain.
But Reyes wasn't finished.
“Claire, she also says there's something you need to know about Matteo's death.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“She says Dario has been lying to everyone.”
I gripped the phone.
“About what?”
May you like
Reyes lowered her voice.
“Vanessa says she kept evidence that could prove exactly what Dario intended to happen on the highway.”
