Chapter 6 - Fire My Mama
The theft hit the news before lunch.
That was how I knew the person inside my house was not simply stealing money.
They were building a story.
MORETTI FOUNDATION FUNDS MISSING, one headline read.
HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYEE QUESTIONED IN POSSIBLE DATA BREACH, read another.
Elena’s photograph appeared beneath it.
Not a recent photograph.
Her employee identification photo from three years earlier.
That image existed in exactly two places: Human Resources and the private household server.
By one o’clock, reporters were outside the gate.
By one fifteen, Elena had received three anonymous messages calling her a thief.
By one twenty, Grace had asked why strangers on television were showing Mama’s face.
I turned off every screen in the house.
Elena stood in the study staring at the printed article in my hand.
“They’re setting me up.”
“Yes.”
“For the seventeen million?”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
Nolan answered from the other side of the room.
“Because you saw the camera. Because Daniel investigated the accounts. Because if police search your devices and find planted files, everybody stops looking at the family.”
Elena’s eyes flashed. “You say that like you admire it.”
“I say it like I recognize it.”
Peter came in carrying a laptop.
“The transfer authorization used Marco’s credentials and Elena’s staff access token.”
Elena stared at him.
“My what?”
“Your login was used to enter the household server at 9:07 this morning. Then Marco’s financial token was cloned from an archived session.”
I turned toward Nolan.
“Can that be done remotely?”
“Not without access to the internal network.”
“So whoever did it was here.”
“Or left a device here.”
Vincent sat in the corner, looking ten years older than he had yesterday.
Julian remained under watch in the west guest room, furious and suddenly as interested in finding the real thief as we were.
I did not trust his innocence.
But I believed his surprise.
Elena folded the article in half.
“What happens now?”
My attorney, Claire Donnelly, answered from the doorway.
“We get ahead of the narrative.”
Claire was fifty-three, five-foot-three, and the only person alive who could insult me in front of armed men and make them wonder whether I should apologize to her.
She dropped a leather bag on my desk.
“Marco, you issue a statement confirming an internal financial review and promising cooperation. You do not accuse anyone. You do not threaten anyone. You do not use the phrase family matter.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You were thinking it loudly.”
Peter looked at the floor.
Claire turned to Elena.
“You need independent counsel.”
“I can’t afford—”
“I didn’t ask whether you could. I said you need it. I’ll arrange someone who doesn’t work for Marco.”
Elena glanced at me.
“Good,” I said.
Claire nodded once, apparently satisfied I had not argued.
Then Grace came into the room.
Nobody had heard the door open.
She wore her backpack again.
That child was going to shorten my life.
“Mama?”
Elena immediately softened. “What are you doing down here?”
“Mrs. Alvarez said I can’t watch cartoons.”
“That’s because reporters are saying unkind things.”
Grace looked around the room.
“Did you steal something?”
Elena’s face broke.
“No, baby.”
Grace nodded.
“Okay.”
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Just belief.
Then she looked at me.
“Are you going to fire her now?”
The room became very still.
I looked at Elena.
An idea had been forming since the first headline.
It was ugly.
It was also useful.
“Yes,” I said.
Grace’s face crumpled.
Elena stared at me.
Peter’s head snapped up.
Claire narrowed her eyes.
Grace stepped in front of her mother as if her forty-two-pound body could block my decision.
“You said you changed your mind!”
“I did.”
“You lied!”
“No. I changed it again.”
Tears filled her eyes.
Elena crouched and held her shoulders.
“Grace, listen to me.”
“No!”
She pointed at me with the fury only a betrayed child could produce.
“You’re mean.”
I had been called worse by better men.
None of it hurt like that.
She ran from the room.
Elena stood and followed her.
Before she reached the door, I said, “Wait.”
She turned.
I looked toward Claire.
Claire understood first.
“Oh,” she said.
Peter caught up a second later.
Nolan smiled grimly.
Elena did not.
“What?”
I lowered my voice.
“If someone is framing you, they need you isolated.”
Her expression changed.
“They need me desperate.”
“Yes.”
“And fired.”
“Yes.”
Claire stepped closer. “Publicly, Marco terminates you for unauthorized access pending investigation. Privately, you remain protected and represented. We leak exactly enough to make whoever is behind this believe the frame worked.”
Elena stared at me.
“You made my daughter cry before explaining that?”
I had no defense.
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I mean, yes. That was poorly handled.”
“Poorly?”
Peter suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“I am better at hostile negotiations than six-year-old feelings.”
“That is becoming obvious.”
She left to find Grace.
Claire looked at me.
“You deserved that.”
“I know.”
An hour later, the plan was in motion.
My office released a short statement: Elena Bennett had been terminated from household employment after irregular access was discovered during an internal review. The statement did not accuse her of theft. The media did that without help.
A sedan carried Elena and Grace out through the front gate in full view of cameras.
Grace sat in the back seat with her arms crossed and refused to look at me.
That hurt too.
Their destination was not a cheap motel or police station, as reporters guessed.
It was Claire’s sister’s townhouse twelve blocks away, protected by off-duty security officers who did not work for the Moretti organization.
By five p.m., Elena’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Claire had already installed lawful recording software with Elena’s consent and her independent attorney on the call.
Elena answered.
“Hello?”
A man disguised his voice badly.
“You have something that belongs to us.”
Elena looked at Claire.
“What?”
“Daniel’s files.”
Her face went pale.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. Bring the drive tomorrow. Come alone, and you walk away from this with enough money to start over.”
“And if I don’t?”
A pause.
“Then the police find the seventeen million in an account with your name on it.”
The call ended.
Claire looked at the recording timer.
“Useful.”
Elena’s attorney nodded.
“Very.”
I listened from the study through a secure connection.
Peter stood beside me.
Nolan was at the security desk tracing the call through legal channels with the carrier.
Ten minutes later, he walked in.
“We got the origin.”
“Julian?” I asked.
“No.”
“Vincent?”
“No.”
He put an address on the monitor.
It belonged to a small office building owned by one of our oldest legitimate companies.
I recognized the suite immediately.
So did Peter.
“Human Resources,” he said.
I felt cold.
Only one person had access to Elena’s employment photo, her staff token, the household server archive, and years of payroll records.
Our director of personnel had worked for my father before I inherited anything.
Her name was Margaret Vale.
Mrs. Vale had attended my baptism.
She had sent Grace a birthday card every year since Elena joined the staff.
And she was the person who had recommended Elena’s hiring to Vincent in the first place.
I stared at the address.
May you like
The traitor had not been hiding behind a gun.
She had been sitting behind a desk for twenty-seven years.
