Chapter 2 - The Twelve Chairs
Silas Rener recovered quickly.
That was one of the reasons he had survived fifteen years beside Camilo.
He picked up the pay stub, adjusted his glasses, and gave the room a tired smile.
“Employee advance program.”
Joanna stood behind Camilo, hands splinted against her chest.
Camilo remained standing.
“Explain.”
Silas glanced at the paper.
“Workers with poor credit are offered emergency loans. Medical deposits, housing, utilities. Payroll deduction reduces default.”
“Eight thousand five hundred became seventy-one thousand.”
“Late fees.”
“She has never missed a payment.”
Silas’s smile thinned.
“Then administrative fees.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know the account.”
Camilo leaned one hand on the table.
“You brought her into this house.”
Silas looked toward Joanna.
“I place household personnel when Marta needs help.”
Marta Beckwith, the head housekeeper, sat at the far end of the dining room. She had worked for the Marquetti family for nine years.
Her face had gone pale.
Camilo noticed.
“Did Silas hire Joanna?”
Marta’s eyes flicked toward him.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We needed another cleaner.”
“Did you interview her?”
“No.”
“Did payroll?”
“I assumed.”
Camilo turned back to Silas.
“You arranged her hiring personally.”
“I arranged dozens of hires.”
“Dozens?”
Silas realized the mistake.
Camilo heard it anyway.
Joanna did too.
She stepped forward.
“How many people are in Aster?”
Silas stared at her as though the furniture had spoken.
Camilo’s voice went cold.
“She asked you a question.”
“I don’t have that information.”
Joanna nodded toward the pay stub.
“The deduction code is AS-17. Mine has been AS-17 every two weeks for three years. If you manage payroll, you know what that code means.”
Silas put down the paper.
“Mr. Marquetti, with respect, we are discussing private employee finances in front of people who—”
“Everyone leaves except Gabriel, Marta, Silas, and Joanna.”
Chairs scraped.
Within a minute, the dining room emptied.
Camilo called his corporate controller.
“Bring every payroll record tied to code AS-17. Household, warehouses, restaurants, construction. Three years.”
Silas’s jaw tightened.
“That will take hours.”
“Then you should hope I remain patient.”
The controller arrived with two analysts and laptops.
It took fifty-three minutes.
There were 387 active AS-17 accounts.
Another 211 were closed.
The average original loan was $6,200.
The average balance after two years was $29,400.
Camilo stared at the screen.
“These are my employees?”
“Some,” the controller said. “Others belong to affiliated companies.”
“Who owns Aster Employee Assistance?”
The analyst hesitated.
“It’s layered.”
“Unlayer it.”
Fifteen minutes later, a Delaware shell company appeared.
Then a Nevada trust.
Then a holding company registered in Wyoming.
The final beneficial owner was hidden behind a law firm.
Camilo looked at Silas.
“Convenient.”
Silas remained calm.
“These programs are common in high-risk labor sectors.”
Joanna laughed once.
Everyone turned.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “High-risk labor sector?”
Silas said nothing.
“I clean marble and fold sheets in your house.”
Her voice sharpened.
“What risk am I?”
Silas looked at Camilo instead of answering her.
That was another mistake.
Camilo said, “You will answer Ms. Callahan.”
Silas’s face finally showed irritation.
“Default risk.”
Joanna nodded.
“Then why does the debt grow when I never default?”
Silence.
Camilo leaned back.
“Freeze every deduction.”
The controller blinked.
“Across all companies?”
“Every AS-17 deduction.”
Silas stood.
“You can’t do that.”
The room changed.
Camilo looked at him.
Silas sat again.
“Explain.”
“The lenders have contractual rights.”
“Let them sue me.”
“That could expose—”
“What?”
Silas stopped.
Camilo’s eyes narrowed.
“What could it expose?”
Silas looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel looked away.
That was enough for Camilo.
“You knew?”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“Not this.”
“What did you know?”
“That Silas used employee advances to keep certain workers from walking.”
Joanna’s stomach tightened.
“Keep them from walking?”
Gabriel looked ashamed.
“Drivers. Dock crews. Men who owed money were less likely to leave for competitors.”
Joanna stared at Camilo.
He could feel the accusation before she spoke.
“You knew there were loans.”
“Yes.”
“You knew people were kept in debt so they wouldn’t quit.”
Camilo said nothing.
“Did you approve that?”
“Years ago, I approved advances for employees nobody else would lend to.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Camilo’s jaw tightened.
“No. I never approved growing balances, hidden fees, or deductions that left workers with almost nothing.”
Joanna looked at him for a long moment.
“But you built the house where nobody asked questions.”
No one moved.
Even Silas looked surprised.
Camilo could have ended the conversation with one sentence.
He could have reminded her who he was.
Instead he said, “Yes.”
Joanna’s expression changed.
Not forgiveness.
Recognition.
The first honest answer she had received.
Camilo ordered Silas’s system access suspended.
Silas stood.
“You’re humiliating me in front of staff.”
Camilo’s face remained still.
“She cried alone in a basement because her hands stopped working, and you’re worried about humiliation?”
Silas’s eyes hardened.
“This organization survives because people understand their position.”
Camilo looked at Joanna’s splints.
“That may be the first useful thing you’ve said.”
Security escorted Silas out of the house.
Not arrested.
Not beaten.
Not yet accused.
Camilo wanted records before rage.
By noon, forensic accountants were working from the library.
By two, Dr. Brandt had fitted Joanna with proper splints and scheduled imaging.
By three, Joanna had fallen asleep sitting upright in a guest-room chair.
Camilo found her there.
He placed a blanket over her without waking her.
Then he saw her canvas tote on the floor.
An envelope stuck from the side pocket.
He did not open it.
For once, he respected the boundary before crossing it.
At four, Marta knocked on his office door.
She looked terrified.
“I need to tell you something.”
Camilo closed the file in front of him.
“About Silas?”
“Yes.”
She glanced toward the hall.
“He told me to hire Joanna without an interview.”
“You said that.”
“He also told me never to move her to daytime-facing rooms.”
Camilo went still.
“Why?”
“He said she had a sick mother and would bring personal problems into the house.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
Marta wrung her hands.
“There was something else. He asked every month whether Miss Callahan had received mail here.”
Camilo stared.
“Mail?”
“I told him no.”
“What was he looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
Joanna appeared in the doorway behind Marta.
She had heard enough.
“My mother.”
Camilo looked at her.
“What about her?”
Joanna’s face had gone pale.
“She worked for the Marquetti family years ago.”
Marta covered her mouth.
Camilo stood.
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. She never talks about it.”
“When?”
“Before she adopted me.”
Camilo felt the room contract.
“How long ago?”
“Maybe twenty years.”
He called Gabriel immediately.
“Find everything on Eileen Callahan.”
Joanna stepped forward.
“No.”
Camilo paused.
“That’s my mother.”
“I’m trying to protect—”
“Ask me.”
The words stopped him.
She breathed carefully.
“Don’t investigate my mother behind my back. Ask me what I know first.”
Camilo held her gaze.
Then lowered the phone.
“All right.”
Joanna seemed surprised.
“She kept one box from her old jobs. It’s in storage. I never opened it.”
“Where?”
“Evanston.”
Gabriel returned ten minutes later with one initial result.
Eileen Callahan had once worked for Marquetti Industrial Services.
Payroll division.
Eighteen years earlier.
Her employment ended abruptly.
Reason listed:
VOLUNTARY RESIGNATION.
Attached note:
NO REHIRE.
Authorized by Silas Rener.
That night, someone entered Joanna’s guest room while she was downstairs with Dr. Brandt.
Nothing valuable was taken.
Only her canvas tote was emptied.
Inside it, beneath her wallet, Camilo found a folded note that had not been there before.
May you like
Joanna read it twice.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHY SHE LEFT THE MARQUETTI BOOKS.
