Chapter 2 - THE MAN CUT FROM THE FRAME
The silence in the dining room was absolute, heavy enough to crack the fine china.
I stood at the head of the table, holding the microphone. Forty of the city’s most influential people stared at me, their champagne glasses frozen in mid-air.
Adrian Moretti did not look away. The quiet intensity in his dark eyes mirrored the boy who used to sit on my porch steps, waiting for a father who was always working.
Vanessa’s chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor.
"Cut the audio," she snapped, glaring at the sound technician in the corner of the room.
The technician’s hand hovered over the mixing board.
"Leave it on," Adrian commanded. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the undeniable authority of his last name.
He turned his attention back to me.
"Who is the third person in the photograph, Catherine?" Adrian asked. "Who was cut out?"
I looked down at the old, faded picture on the table. Dominic and I stood smiling outside a dilapidated brick warehouse. Beside Dominic was a shoulder, a hand resting on the doorframe, and nothing else.
"His name was Julian Rossi," I said.
A sharp gasp came from the far end of the table.
Leonard Voss dropped his linen napkin. The retired attorney looked as though all the blood had been drained from his body.
"Catherine, for God's sake," Leonard breathed, his hands trembling against the mahogany edge.
Vanessa looked between us, her perfect, diamond-studded mask slipping into a sneer. "Julian Rossi? The man who went to federal prison in 1987 for embezzlement? You’re trying to say Dominic partnered with a convicted felon?"
"Julian wasn't a felon when Dominic met him," I said softly. "Julian was an architect. A legitimate businessman with inherited wealth. He was the one who provided the five hundred thousand dollars Dominic used to buy that first warehouse and secure the early shipping routes."
Adrian’s jaw tightened. "My father’s records state he used his own savings."
"Your father had no savings in 1986," I replied, the truth tasting bitter after forty years. "He was drowning in debt. Julian trusted him. Julian funded everything. They were equal partners."
"Then why isn't Julian's name on the capital declaration?" Adrian asked, pointing to the document Leonard had provided.
"Because of the missing schedule," I said.
I reached into my small evening bag. My fingers brushed against cold metal. I pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver key and placed it on the table next to the photograph.
It clinked softly against the wood.
"Dominic gave me this key the night before Julian was arrested," I told Adrian. "It opens the locked drawer in your father’s old study. The one you’ve never been able to open. He told me to keep it safe until you were old enough to understand."
Adrian stared at the key. I could see the foundation of his entire life beginning to crack.
Vanessa laughed, a sharp, nervous sound. "This is absurd. She’s making up a story to ruin this evening. Julian Rossi stole from his own clients. Dominic testified against him to protect the company. It’s a matter of public record."
"Is it?" I asked, turning to Leonard.
Answer one: Julian Rossi was the true source of the Moretti wealth.
Open two: If Julian funded the company, why did Dominic send him to prison, and what exactly did the missing schedule prove?
Leonard was gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Leonard," Adrian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Did my father frame Julian Rossi?"
"No!" Leonard blurted out, sweat beading on his forehead. "No, Adrian. Your father didn't frame Julian. You don't understand."
"Then make me understand," Adrian demanded.
Leonard looked at the silver key resting on the table. He looked terrified. Not of Adrian, but of the ghosts we were dragging into the light.
"If you use that key," Leonard warned, his voice shaking, "if you open that drawer and read the original schedule, you will lose everything. The business. The assets. Even this estate."
Vanessa froze. "What do you mean, lose the estate?"
May you like
Leonard finally looked Adrian dead in the eye.
"Because Julian Rossi didn't just give your father money," Leonard whispered. "He gave him the deed to the property we are standing on. And the missing schedule proves your father swore to return fifty-one percent of everything to Julian’s bloodline."
