Chapter 15
By late afternoon, the initial storm of media attention had settled into a steady hum of industry buzz.
Beatrice sat in the massive corner office that had once belonged to Charles Wilkes.
The expensive artwork on the walls felt different now—no longer an intimidation tactic, but a trophy of survival.
Her phone rang on the desk, showing an incoming call from an unlisted number.
She picked it up cautiously. “Beatrice Gallagher.”
“You think you’ve won, don't you?” a rasping, bitter voice came through the speaker.
It was Victoria Lane, calling from a processing facility on Rikers Island.
“Victoria,” Beatrice said calmly, leaning back in her executive chair. “You shouldn't be using your phone privilege for this.”
“Julian Hart was just the tip of the iceberg, Beatrice!” Victoria warned, her voice laced with hysterical venom.
“You think you’re safe because Dante Moretti is standing next to you?”
“What are you talking about?” Beatrice asked, her analytical mind immediately sharpening.
“The four point eight million wasn't for Julian’s margin call,” Victoria laughed wildly.
“It was a payment! A payoff to a syndicate in Chicago to keep Moretti’s old secrets buried!”
Beatrice’s breath hitched slightly, but she kept her voice completely composed.
“Dante cleared his accounts months ago.”
“Dante didn't know his late father left a second set of books!” Victoria spat through the phone.
“Check the sub-ledger for the Italian import account from 2018, Beatrice.”
“If you dig into that file, you’ll realize the man sitting next to you isn't your savior.”
“He’s the reason your father’s business went bankrupt ten years ago!”
The line went dead with a harsh click.
Beatrice sat frozen in her leather chair, the room suddenly feeling ice-cold.
Her father had lost his mid-sized logistics company ten years ago after an aggressive hostile takeover.
The strain of the bankruptcy had eventually led to his fatal heart attack two years later.
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She had always believed it was a blind market collapse.
Could Dante Moretti have been involved?
