Chapter 9 - The Meeting at the Café|
Evelyn insisted that we meet Elena in a public place with cameras and an independent security professional nearby. She also told me not to take any documents home until her office had made copies.
I agreed to every precaution.
Then I almost canceled.
The idea of stepping back into Vincent's world, even indirectly, made my chest tighten. I had spent days trying to build a life that did not revolve around his name. Now his cousin's business was reaching for me through a woman who claimed to have evidence of a crime.
Madison found me pacing the living room.
“You don't have to go alone,” she said.
“Evelyn will be there.”
“You know what I mean.”
I looked at her.
“I can't keep running from every shadow. If someone is using my name, I need to know.”
Madison took my coat from the chair.
“Then let's go find out.”
Elena arrived ten minutes early. She was in her late thirties, with tired eyes and a plain brown coat. She kept looking toward the windows as though she expected someone to appear on the sidewalk.
Evelyn introduced herself and explained the ground rules. Elena could provide the documents, but any further cooperation would be handled through legal channels.
Elena placed a thin folder on the table.
“These are copies of the foundation's incorporation papers, bank transfer summaries, and correspondence.”
I opened the folder.
My name appeared on the first page.
Claire Bennett Moretti, founder.
Beneath it was a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
I felt sick.
“I didn't sign this.”
“That's what I thought,” Elena said. “The signature was copied from your marriage license and an old property document.”
Evelyn examined the page carefully.
“Do you have the originals?”
“Not with me. The originals are in a locked archive at the Moretti corporate office.”
“Why did you keep copies?”
“Because I was asked to process the transfers. When I questioned why a charity foundation was receiving money from companies with no connection to its stated mission, Adrian told me to stop asking questions.”
“And you left?”
“I was fired. Then someone began following me.”
My hands trembled.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Elena leaned forward.
“The foundation is about to be audited. If the transactions are exposed, the person whose name appears on the paperwork will be investigated first. Adrian has been telling people that you managed the foundation.”
“I never even knew it existed.”
“I believe you.”
I searched her face.
“Why?”
“Because I watched you at those charity events. You were the one asking where the money went, why certain families had been removed from the assistance list, and why the same contractors kept winning bids. You were inconvenient, Mrs. Moretti. People who wanted to hide things did not like you.”
The memory struck me unexpectedly. I remembered questioning an unusually large invoice at a hospital fundraiser. Vincent had told me it was a complicated business arrangement and that I should leave it to the professionals.
I had apologized.
I had actually apologized.
Evelyn closed the folder.
“We'll have this reviewed independently. You should not contact Adrian or Vincent about the documents until we know what we have.”
I nodded.
Then Elena looked directly at me.
“There's a reason Adrian is moving now. Vincent has started asking questions about the foundation.”
“Why would that make Adrian target me?”
“Because if Vincent discovers the money trail, Adrian needs someone else to blame. And your name is already on the paperwork.”
We left the café separately.
Madison drove me home, and I spent the afternoon answering questions from Evelyn's investigators. By evening, I was exhausted.
At eight, Vincent called through Evelyn's office line.
She asked whether I was willing to speak with him.
I agreed, but only with her present.
His voice sounded strained.
“I heard you met Elena Ruiz.”
“Then you know she gave me evidence.”
“She's been missing company records for months.”
“Were you aware of the foundation?”
“I knew it existed. I didn't know your name had been used without your knowledge.”
I wanted to believe him.
I also knew that belief was no longer enough.
“Did you ever review the foundation's accounts?”
“I trusted Adrian to manage the charitable division.”
“You trusted him with my name.”
“I didn't know.”
“That's the problem, Vincent. You didn't know because you never bothered to look.”
He was silent.
Then he said, “I'll help you prove the documents were falsified.”
“Through our lawyers. Nothing else.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
I ended the call.
For the first time since I left, Vincent had not asked me to come home. He had not mentioned the baby or offered money. He had accepted a boundary without arguing.
It should have comforted me.
Instead, it made me wonder what he had learned about Adrian that he was still afraid to say aloud.
That night, Evelyn called again.
Her voice was tight.
“Claire, we have a problem.”
“What happened?”
“Someone accessed the foundation's archive less than an hour after Elena met us.”
“Did they take anything?”
“We don't know yet.”
I sat upright.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone knows Elena has spoken. And whoever it is may realize that the documents she gave you are only copies.”
May you like
She paused.
“Claire, I need you to listen carefully. Until we understand who has access to the originals, do not trust any request to meet privately—not even one that appears to come from Vincent.”
