Chapter 10 - Celeste's Version of the Truth
Celeste appeared on a morning television program four weeks after the party, her platinum curls arranged neatly and her emerald jewelry replaced with a modest strand of pearls.
She sat across from a sympathetic host and described herself as a woman abandoned by a powerful fiancé after a "family misunderstanding."
She did not directly deny the slap shown in widely circulated video clips.
Instead she said the footage lacked context, implied that Nora had stirred jealousy, and insisted Luca had been agitated before the confrontation.
The host asked whether she regretted the situation.
Celeste lowered her eyes.
"I regret that my attempts to protect this family were misunderstood," she said.
It was the perfect answer for someone who wanted the appearance of remorse without admitting to a single act.
I watched the interview once with Anne and then turned it off.
I wanted to release every document, every message, every detail that would expose the manipulation.
Anne advised patience.
Public accusations could influence witnesses, complicate an investigation, and invite a defamation fight that distracted from provable acts.
Luca saw the interview in his apartment and called me before it ended.
"She's doing it again," he said.
"She's making everyone discuss whether I'm unstable instead of why she hit me."
I told him he was right.
We would answer through the evidence, not by allowing her to choose the arena.
Still, the feeling of helplessness was familiar.
I had money and lawyers and a security team.
Nora had received another wave of cruel messages simply because Celeste had implied she was untrustworthy.
Her lawyer helped document them, and Nora took time away from public social media.
Within days, Celeste filed a civil claim for damages she said resulted from the pool fall.
She alleged that I had intentionally pushed her into the water and that her humiliation had cost her business opportunities.
Her complaint minimized the attempt to strike me and described our engagement breakup as a calculated display of power.
I did not dismiss the suit merely because the accusation was inconvenient.
My attorneys preserved medical records, video footage, witness accounts, and the complete sequence of the event.
I had pushed her away after blocking an attack; a court would assess whether my response was proportionate.
I would not manufacture certainty or ask friends to lie.
If there were consequences for what I had done, I would face them.
That resolve did not require me to accept her version of the facts.
Celeste called me privately late one evening from an unfamiliar number.
I answered because I wanted to hear whether she would finally ask about Luca.
She did not.
"You ruined me," she said without greeting.
"You had the police come to our engagement."
"The police were investigating documents before the party," I replied.
"Then you assaulted my brother and Nora."
She made an impatient sound.
"You know how emotional Luca gets."
I closed my eyes.
"You still haven't asked whether he's all right."
Silence followed.
Then she said, "He is a grown man.
He should know how to behave."
It was the same contempt, stripped of cameras and fancy clothes.
I told her future communication would go through counsel.
Before I ended the call, she whispered, "Quentin knows things about your father that you don't."
The threat was familiar by now, but it lodged in the oldest part of my fear.
The next day, I visited Vittorio's former attorney, Michael Ferraro, a retired man who lived near the lake with shelves of books and an ancient terrier.
He had advised my father during the difficult transition away from partnerships with criminal associations.
I asked about Quentin's involvement in the warehouse development.
Ferraro remembered a financing group that had tried to impose predatory terms and a young analyst who carried documents between meetings.
"Your father refused the final agreement," he said.
"It would have put his partners' assets at risk without adequate notice."
Ferraro showed me a letter in which Vittorio questioned the proposed terms and asked that no old signature pages be reused.
The letter was signed and dated years before his death.
It did not absolve my father of every mistake he ever made.
It did, however, directly contradict Quentin's anonymous claim that Vittorio had endorsed a future scheme.
I took the letter to Reed through Anne.
Investigators could authenticate the archive and determine its relevance.
That same afternoon, one of Celeste's former friends contacted Nora's lawyer.
She had watched Celeste's television interview and recognized several claims from an older dispute involving Celeste's previous business partner.
The friend did not offer gossip as proof.
She provided copies of emails in which Celeste described discrediting a former colleague as the easiest way to avoid accounting questions.
The emails required authentication and context.
Reed accepted them as leads, not conclusions.
I was learning how a good investigation resisted the seduction of a neat villain's biography.
Celeste had done enough in my garden to answer for without inventing new acts simply because they sounded plausible.
Then Nora received a voicemail that changed the emotional temperature of the case.
A woman's voice said, "You could have stayed quiet and kept your place."
The number was unregistered, and Nora could not identify the speaker.
She reported it.
The detectives arranged additional safety planning and advised her not to confront anyone she suspected.
Nora's mother insisted on attending the next meeting with her.
"If they want to frighten my daughter," Rosa told Brooks, "they should understand she's not alone."
Nora squeezed her mother's hand.
It was the first time I saw her smile after hearing Celeste's interview.
She was no longer organizing her life around the possibility that a wealthy woman might make her unemployable.
A week later, Brooks told us that prosecutors were evaluating assault-related charges while the financial investigation continued.
Celeste's public-relations team issued another statement about a "private misunderstanding."
Quentin released a carefully phrased denial of wrongdoing and indicated he would cooperate through counsel.
I imagined the two of them in separate offices, each deciding how much blame to place on the other.
For the first time, I did not feel the need to interrupt.
People who build a partnership on manipulation eventually discover that trust is necessary even for conspiracies.
I stood in the garden after sunset, looking at the pool where the champagne table had stood.
The spot was empty now, the lawn repaired.
Somewhere beyond the gate, a car stopped and then drove on.
I had once believed the Moretti name meant I must always answer injury with a display of strength.
In the weeks after the party, I began to understand that restraint could be more difficult and more useful.
May you like
Then Reed called with the news that Quentin's assistant had decided to speak.
She was bringing an original calendar, and she said the fraud was not their only plan.
