Chapter 4 - THE FALL GUY
“Ellen!” Matteo’s voice was a low growl now. A heavy shoulder slammed against the heavy wood of the office door.
I looked at Celeste. The elegant, commanding woman who had insulted me over a coffee cup was gone. In her place was a terrified mother, shaking so violently her bracelets clattered.
I swept the manila envelope of cash and the silver rosary into my open desk drawer and kicked it shut.
“Hide,” I hissed, pointing to the narrow coat closet in the corner.
Celeste didn't hesitate. She scrambled into the dark closet, pulling the louvered door shut just as I hit the electronic lock release.
Matteo shoved the door open. He looked furious, his dark eyes scanning the room. Behind him stood a massive man in a tailored suit—his security chief.
“Why was the door locked?” Matteo demanded, stepping into the room.
“I locked it from the inside by mistake when I came back from the restroom,” I lied smoothly. Seventeen years of dealing with aggressive restaurant suppliers had taught me how to hold a poker face. “The new security protocols are taking some getting used to.”
Matteo studied my face. He stepped further into the room, pacing slowly. He stopped right next to the closet door. My stomach did a violent flip.
“Did you find anything?” he asked, trailing a hand along the edge of my desk.
“I found a lot of noise,” I said, pulling up a sanitized spreadsheet. “Paul was using a web of dummy corporations to filter the money out of the main accounts. I've tracked about two million so far. It’s a sophisticated laundering technique.”
“Where did it go?”
“That’s what I'm still trying to trace,” I said. “It bounces through offshore servers. But I need to speak to Paul. If I can see his master encryption key, I can crack the final destination.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened. “You can't speak to Paul.”
“Why not? Is he fired?”
“He’s missing,” Matteo said coldly. “He never went home last night. His apartment was cleared out.”
I froze. “Cleared out? By him?”
“We don't know,” Matteo said. He leaned over my desk. “If Paul ran, he took the master ledgers with him. Which means Thomas Mercer might get his hands on them. Mercer has been looking for leverage to push me out of the waterfront development.”
Matteo glanced around the room one last time, his eyes lingering on the louvered closet door. For a second, I thought he saw a shadow move. But he just straightened his jacket.
“Find where the money went, Ellen. Before Mercer finds Paul.”
He turned and walked out, his security chief closing the door securely behind them.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and rushed to the closet. I opened it.
Celeste practically collapsed into my arms, gasping for air.
“He knows,” she sobbed quietly. “He knows I was here.”
“He doesn't know anything yet,” I said strictly, pushing her toward the chair. “But you need to tell me the truth right now. Why are you hiding your son from Matteo? If Leo is his heir, why run?”
Celeste wiped her face. “Because Matteo didn't want a child. He made that very clear six years ago. When I got pregnant, I hid it. I went away, claimed I was sick. I had Leo in secret. But I knew I couldn't raise him on my own and protect him from Matteo’s enemies. So I created the dummy accounts. I siphoned the money to build a safe life for Leo far away from the mob.”
“And Paul helped you?” I asked, struggling to believe the finance director had a heart of gold.
“Paul didn't help me out of kindness,” Celeste said bitterly. “He figured it out three years ago. He’s been blackmailing me ever since. He took half of everything I siphoned. The house in Elm Creek? That wasn't for me. That was for Paul. He demanded I buy it for him under the LLC, or he would tell Matteo about Leo.”
I sank into my chair. The $90,000 wasn't a mistake. It was a blackmail payment disguised as a supplier deposit.
“Where is Leo now?” I asked.
“He’s safe. He's at a private facility upstate.” Celeste reached into her pocket. “But if Paul is missing, he might be going after him. Paul has the original birth certificate. The real one, with Matteo’s name on it. If he gives that to Mercer…”
“Mercer would use the boy as a hostage to control Matteo,” I finished, feeling sick.
My burner phone buzzed on the desk. It was an unknown number.
I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Ellen.” The voice was ragged, panicked. It was Paul.
“Paul? Where are you?”
“They’re going to kill me, Ellen,” Paul gasped. Sirens wailed in the background of the call. “Mercer’s men. They found me before I could get to the airport.”
“Paul, listen to me. Do you have the ledgers?”
“I don't have the ledgers! I never had them!” he screamed. “It was a setup! You have to look in the safety deposit box. The key is in—”
A loud crash echoed through the phone, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
“Paul!” I yelled.
A scuffle. A heavy thud. Then, a new voice came on the line. Calm, smooth, and chillingly polite.
“Hello, Ellen,” Thomas Mercer said. “It seems our mutual friend Paul has had a terrible accident.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Oh, I didn't do anything,” Mercer said mildly. “But he did drop something very interesting before he fell. A leather journal. It has your name on it.”
I stopped breathing. “My name?”
May you like
“Yes. And a rather fascinating list of addresses. Including one for a boy named Leo. I think you and I need to have a meeting, Ellen. Bring Matteo’s flash drive to the old shipyard at midnight. Or little Leo is going to have a very bad day.”
The line went dead.
