Chapter 8 - Someone Came for the Notebook
Elena’s apartment door was open when she arrived.
She stopped in the hallway.
Priya had insisted she stay at a hotel.
Elena had refused.
Now she wished she had listened.
The lock was broken.
Drawers stood open.
Cushions were cut.
Her old sewing cabinet had been emptied across the floor.
Elena called 911 from the hallway.
Police arrived before she entered.
Nothing expensive appeared missing.
Television remained.
Jewelry box remained.
Cash remained.
The person had searched for something specific.
The notebook.
Except Elena no longer had it.
Lucas’s independent counsel had placed the original in a secure evidence room after making forensic images.
Elena sat on the building stairs while an officer took notes.
Her hands shook.
Not because of the apartment.
Because whoever came knew where she lived.
Sophie arrived twenty minutes later.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Elena said.
“Neither should whoever did this.”
Sophie sat beside her.
“I brought coffee.”
Elena almost smiled.
“You’re twenty-four. Why are you taking care of me?”
“Because you repaired a dress while someone was screaming at you.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It’s mine.”
Sophie had become unexpectedly important.
The backstage humiliation video had leaked.
Not the entire scene.
Only Bianca ripping the gown and throwing fabric at Elena.
Public reaction was vicious.
Bianca’s press team tried to frame it as a “high-pressure creative disagreement.”
Nobody believed them.
Moretti shares were private, but brand partners noticed.
A cosmetics sponsor requested a call.
Two celebrities canceled fittings.
Bianca blamed Elena.
Lucas blamed Bianca.
Elena blamed nobody publicly.
That made people trust her more.
At Moretti headquarters, Lucas questioned Marcus Vale again.
“Who knew Elena’s address?”
“Payroll.”
“Bianca?”
“Probably.”
“Kessler?”
“If he accessed separation records.”
Lucas stared.
“What about you?”
Marcus looked offended.
“Yes. So do fifty people in HR.”
Lucas hated himself for asking.
Then the forensic team returned its first report.
The 1993 redemption agreement carried a signature inconsistent with Elena’s known writing.
Not definitive.
Strongly suspicious.
The ink used for Elena’s signature also differed from the ink used by the purported witness.
More importantly, the document had been created on a typewriter purchased by Carlo Moretti’s law office six months after the stated execution date.
Lucas sat silently.
The buyout was almost certainly fabricated later.
Elena had been telling the truth.
The audit team found another trail.
From 1994 through 2001, Moretti’s internal management accounts continued showing a line called:
ER Contingent Founder Reserve.
Money accumulated.
No payments were made.
By 2002 the reserve exceeded $4.8 million.
Then it disappeared through an accounting reclassification approved by Carlo.
Lucas looked at Marcus.
“What happened to the money?”
“We’re tracing.”
“Find it.”
Marcus hesitated.
“What?”
“There may be a problem with the Vallon investment.”
Lucas laughed without humor.
“There are several.”
“The draft agreement says our historical financial statements are accurate in all material respects.”
“They aren’t.”
“Correct.”
“So we amend disclosure.”
“If Vallon stays.”
Lucas looked toward the window.
“What about Bianca’s loan?”
Marcus opened another file.
Bellweather had contacted the company.
Because Bianca pledged disputed archive assets, the bank was conducting its own review.
If the collateral representation was false, the loan could default.
Bianca’s Moretti shares were also pledged.
“How many?”
“Most of them.”
Lucas stared.
“If Bellweather forecloses?”
“They could potentially sell her shares subject to transfer restrictions.”
“Which would destabilize control.”
“Yes.”
The family company was now surrounded by consequences.
Not from Elena speaking.
From years of hidden decisions.
That evening Lucas visited Elena’s apartment after police finished.
The place was destroyed.
Elena stood among torn cushions.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
“You didn’t do this.”
“My family did something.”
“You don’t know that.”
He almost smiled.
“You sound like my lawyers.”
Elena picked up an old photograph frame.
The glass was broken.
Inside was the same image of her and Isabella.
Lucas crouched to help.
“Why did you come back to work for Moretti?”
Elena looked surprised.
“You could have stayed away.”
“I did.”
“For years?”
“Twelve.”
“What changed?”
“My husband died.”
Lucas paused.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Elena had married a schoolteacher named Anthony.
He knew everything.
He repeatedly urged her to sue.
She always refused.
After he died from colon cancer, Elena struggled financially.
A staffing contractor offered backstage work.
Moretti Atelier appeared on the schedule.
“I almost declined.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Elena looked at the broken photograph.
“Because I missed the clothes.”
Lucas understood in a way he did not expect.
He had spent years resenting the company for taking his mother’s time.
He still could not imagine leaving it.
Elena continued.
“Bianca didn’t recognize me at first.”
“Impossible.”
“I was forty when she last saw me. Thinner. Dark hair.”
“When did she realize?”
“About six months ago.”
“And she kept you?”
“She liked reminding me where I ended up.”
Lucas looked sick.
Elena did not say it cruelly.
That made it worse.
His phone rang.
Company security.
They had found unauthorized access to the archived server holding Isabella’s old correspondence.
Someone attempted to delete files at 2:13 a.m.
The credentials belonged to Marcus Vale.
Lucas slowly stood.
Elena saw his expression.
“What?”
May you like
He looked at her.
“The man I trusted to investigate Bianca may be helping her erase the evidence.”
