Chapter 7 - The Missing Money Nobody Was Supposed to Find
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By the day after Christmas, I had hired an independent forensic accountant.
Her name was Naomi Price.
She was forty-four, direct, and completely unimpressed by my reputation.
We met in a conference room at my downtown office.
Gabriel stood outside.
Charlotte Mercer joined us by secure video call.
Naomi opened her laptop.
“Mr. DeLuca, I reviewed the charitable trust statements you provided.”
“And?”
“There are serious inconsistencies.”
She displayed a list of payments.
Most were small.
Medical grants.
Food assistance.
Emergency housing support.
Then she highlighted several larger transfers.
“Over a four-year period, more than twelve million dollars was routed through entities described as community placement partners.”
I stared at the number.
“Twelve million?”
“Approximately twelve point four million, based on the records currently available.”
“Where did it go?”
“That's what we need to establish.”
Naomi moved to another page.
“Several of the recipient companies appear to have shared officers, addresses, or administrative services.”
Charlotte leaned closer to her camera.
“Are any connected to the contractor involved in Renee's placement?”
Naomi nodded.
“One is.”
She displayed the name.
Havenbridge Family Services.
I recognized it immediately.
Havenbridge had appeared in Renee's original adoption file as an outside provider responsible for coordinating certain placement services.
I'd never questioned the name.
At the time, my attention had been entirely on whether Renee was safe and whether I was prepared to become her father.
Naomi continued.
“A two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar payment was classified as emergency placement support.”
“Is that normal?” I asked.
“Not without substantial supporting documentation.”
She opened another document.
“The authorization came from your parents.”
I leaned back.
That much Charlotte had already confirmed.
But Naomi wasn't finished.
“What's more troubling is the timing.”
She placed three dates side by side.
The payment authorization.
Elena Vega's reported disappearance.
And Renee's placement referral.
The money had been approved before Elena was officially declared dead.
I stared at the dates.
“How is that possible?”
Naomi folded her hands.
“There may be an explanation. But we need original records, not summaries.”
I thought about my father's insistence on keeping family finances private.
Antonio had always described the relief trust as my mother's personal charitable project.
He'd discouraged me from interfering.
“Your mother understands community work,” he used to say. “You focus on business.”
Now I wondered whether that arrangement had protected the trust's beneficiaries or my parents' secrets.
Charlotte spoke carefully.
“Michael, do not assume this proves your parents planned Renee's adoption. We know the records contain discrepancies. We don't yet know who created them or why.”
I nodded.
She was right.
But the pattern was becoming difficult to ignore.
After the meeting, Naomi handed me a list of individuals who had approved the disputed payments.
Several names were familiar.
Family attorneys.
Longtime accountants.
Former employees.
Then I saw one that made me stop.
Samuel Pike.
The executive director of Havenbridge Family Services.
I remembered meeting him during an early review of Renee's placement.
He had been unusually eager to reassure me.
“She couldn't be going to a better home,” he'd said.
At the time, I believed him.
Now I wanted to know why.
I called Gabriel.
“Find out whether Samuel Pike still works at Havenbridge.”
Gabriel returned twenty minutes later.
“He resigned last year.”
“Where is he now?”
“I'm checking public records and lawful contacts.”
Then he hesitated.
“Boss, there's something else.”
“What?”
“Mr. Pike filed a complaint against the DeLuca Family Relief Trust six months before he resigned.”
I sat upright.
“What kind of complaint?”
May you like
Gabriel lowered his voice.
“He alleged that somebody had ordered him to destroy old placement records.”
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