Chapter 15 - The Night I Took Back the DeLuca Name
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The DeLuca Family Relief Trust held its annual winter fundraising gala in a downtown Chicago ballroom.
My parents had spent months planning it.
Carmen had ordered imported flowers.
Antonio had invited politicians, business leaders, and several prominent donors.
The evening was supposed to celebrate decades of the family's generosity.
Instead, it became the night everything changed.
I arrived wearing a black three-piece suit.
Gabriel accompanied me.
Charlotte and Naomi were already inside, along with several members of the trust's governing board.
Renee stayed home with Rosa.
I'd promised myself that no adult conflict would interrupt another one of her evenings.
Carmen spotted me immediately.
She wore a sparkling silver gown and an expression of theatrical relief.
“Michael, thank goodness.”
I looked at her.
“Mother.”
She reached toward my arm.
“Let's put this nonsense behind us. People are beginning to talk.”
I stepped away.
“They should be asking questions.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Don't embarrass the family tonight.”
I remembered those words from Christmas.
The same demand.
Different room.
I walked past her.
At the head table, Antonio stood to greet several donors.
When he saw Charlotte and Naomi, his expression tightened.
“What are they doing here?”
“Attending the board meeting scheduled before the gala.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You arranged that?”
“As a trustee, I requested an emergency review of the relief fund's financial controls.”
Antonio lowered his voice.
“You're making a mistake.”
I held his gaze.
“You've told me that before.”
The board meeting took place in a private conference room.
Naomi presented the findings that could be responsibly supported by the available financial records.
Unexplained payments.
Conflicting descriptions.
Missing documentation.
Questions about independent contractors.
She carefully avoided disclosing Renee's private adoption information.
Charlotte outlined the need to preserve records and investigate the suspected misuse of charitable funds.
A longtime donor asked:
“Mr. DeLuca, are you saying money intended for families may not have reached them?”
I looked around the table.
“That's what we're investigating.”
Another board member frowned.
“Who authorized the questionable payments?”
Naomi displayed the relevant approval records.
Antonio's name appeared repeatedly.
So did Carmen's.
My mother stood abruptly.
“This is a disgraceful attack on our family.”
I turned toward her.
“No. This is an accounting review.”
“You're destroying everything we've built!”
I took a breath.
“Then perhaps what we've built needs to withstand scrutiny.”
The board voted to suspend disputed disbursements, preserve financial records, and expand the independent audit.
My parents lost control of the investigation.
For the first time in decades, they couldn't decide which questions the family was allowed to ask.
Afterward, Carmen cornered me in a quiet hallway.
“You think you've won?”
I looked at her.
“This isn't about winning.”
She stepped closer.
“You don't understand why we brought that child into the family.”
My entire body went still.
“What did you say?”
Carmen's face changed.
She had spoken too quickly.
I stepped toward her.
“You just said you brought Renee into the family.”
She shook her head.
“I meant—”
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
“Four years ago, you acted surprised when I told you I wanted to adopt her.”
Carmen looked away.
I felt my pulse hammer.
“Did you know who Renee was before I met her?”
She said nothing.
I leaned closer.
“Did you arrange for me to meet her?”
My mother began trembling.
Then, almost inaudibly, she whispered:
“We thought she would be safer with you.”
I stared at her.
“Safer from whom?”
Carmen closed her eyes.
May you like
And answered:
“From the people your father owed money to.”
