Chapter 5 - Twenty Percent of Someone Else's Money
Two weeks after she left the estate, the first time Norah saw the port workers' names, they were printed in a column beside numbers no one had bothered to explain to them.
There were 214 names in the file Lena had obtained through the appropriate proceedings. Retired crane operators. Forklift mechanics. A payroll clerk who had worked at the harbor for forty-one years. Their pension reserve had been shifted between corporate vehicles just before one of Matteo's companies reported an unexpected cash surplus. Anton's signature appeared on the instructions. Matteo's appeared on the board resolution approving the broader restructuring.
Norah traced the list with one finger. “I thought those accounts were his personal emergency money.”
“Some might be,” Lena replied. “But part of the pool may belong to these people. Your transfers took twenty percent from each account indiscriminately.”
Norah closed her eyes. She had imagined taking enough to buy a home without guards and raise her daughter without asking her husband for groceries. Now she pictured an elderly dockworker opening an envelope that said his monthly payment was delayed. The holding account had never looked less like freedom.
“What can I do?”
“Leave it untouched. Disclose every step truthfully. We'll seek a process that returns any improperly moved funds and protects your legitimate rights separately.”
Norah nodded. “I want the workers told I didn't spend it.”
“Your intention matters, but the records will matter more.”
They spent the morning preparing her account of the transfers: when she'd accessed the study, what she had believed, which notices she'd seen, and why the earlier authorization frightened her. She provided the flash drive through counsel and accepted that her own conduct would be scrutinized. She would rather face a difficult question in a well-lit room than live forever under another person's threat.
When she returned to her apartment, Joseph was sitting at the kitchen table repairing a broken drawer handle. He'd brought a toolbox from home because he said every rented place deserved a drawer that closed properly.
“There's a woman downstairs,” he said. “She claims she knows you.”
Norah froze. “What woman?”
“Dark hair, green jacket. She said her name was Harper.”
The baby shifted beneath Norah's ribs. She placed a hand on the countertop to steady herself. Harper Wynn had crossed an ocean, and now she was downstairs in a building whose address wasn't supposed to be public.
Norah called Lena. Together they arranged to meet Harper in Evelyn's office with the receptionist present. Harper arrived without designer sunglasses, wearing flat shoes and carrying an envelope sealed with two pieces of tape.
“I know I have no right to ask you to listen,” Harper began.
“Then don't ask,” Norah said. “Tell us why you're here.”
Harper placed the envelope on the table. “Anton paid me for an appearance contract. I signed things I didn't understand because I liked the money. Then he told me to keep Matteo in Greece until Monday. I didn't. I told Matteo about the company. Anton sent me this after I said I was getting a lawyer.”
Inside was a printout of a message threatening to publicize private photographs of Harper and identify her as the person who emptied the accounts. Norah felt no urge to reassure her. Harper had enjoyed the trip that had broken her marriage. Yet the fear on her face was recognizable.
“Did you know I was pregnant?” Norah asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you know he was married?”
“Yes.”
“Then you were not deceived about the part that matters to me.”
Harper lowered her eyes. “No.”
Lena asked Harper to preserve the original messages and speak through her own attorney. She agreed. As she stood to leave, Harper turned back.
“There's another thing. Anton told Matteo I was uncomplicated because I didn't ask about the docks. But he was always asking me about Matteo. What he kept in his jacket. When he left his phone unattended. Whether he slept after drinking.”
Norah stared. “Did you give him access to Matteo's phone?”
“No. But I photographed it once while it lay beside the pool. I thought Anton wanted to know whether Matteo was ignoring work.” Her voice thinned. “He had me photograph the screen with a security notification on it.”
“Tell your lawyer exactly that,” Lena said.
After Harper left, Norah sat so still Evelyn touched her shoulder. “You don't have to carry her remorse,” the older woman said.
“I don't intend to.” Norah looked at the empty doorway. “But the photograph could tell us when Anton was trying to enter the accounts.”
At the estate, Matteo was learning how little he understood about his own signature. His lawyer had shown him the civil claim against Norah, and he was furious. He hadn't authorized it. Anton had used a preexisting corporate delegation to instruct an outside firm. The firm had assumed that an accusation against a spouse was part of a family asset dispute and filed without speaking to Matteo directly.
Matteo contacted the firm with his attorney, withdrew any authority issued in his name, and supplied a sworn statement denying that he had requested the filing. It didn't undo the fear Norah had felt when she received it. It did remove one obstacle.
Later, he opened the nursery door and sat in the chair he'd bought for midnight feedings. Its pale fabric still had a store tag attached. He had chosen an expensive chair but never asked Norah whether she could get comfortable in it. The realization was so ordinary that it hurt.
His phone rang. Anton's voice came through an unfamiliar number.
“You're letting a woman steal from you, Matteo.”
“Where are you?”
“That isn't the right question. Ask her about the twenty percent.”
“I know about it. I also know you moved money using her name eleven days before she touched a single account.”
A pause. “She has a child to think about. I hope she makes sensible decisions.”
Matteo stood. “You do not mention my daughter.”
“Then sign the settlement I sent your lawyer. You keep your reputation, I keep the companies I built, and Norah keeps the money she's already taken. Everyone stays comfortable.”
The line went dead before Matteo could answer. He forwarded the call details to his attorney and the detective, resisting the impulse to send armed men after Anton.
In Boston, Norah opened the proposed settlement Lena had received. One clause demanded that she affirm the contingency funds were exclusively Matteo's property and waive any claim to their origin. Another required both spouses to state publicly that no corporate wrongdoing had occurred.
Norah flipped to the signature page. Matteo hadn't signed. Neither had she.
“Do we have to respond today?” she asked.
“No,” Lena replied. “We do have to preserve it.”
Norah touched the twenty-percent figures she'd written in the margin. Those numbers once meant a clean escape. Now they were evidence that somebody expected her to value silence more than other people's savings.
“Tell them no,” she said. “And tell the investigators why.”
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That night she received a video call from an unfamiliar number. She let it go to voicemail. The preview showed a room filled with shipping manifests, and a man's hand sliding a folder toward the camera.
A voice said, “Mrs. Rossi, you've found the money. Now find out what your husband bought with it.”
