Chapter 5 - THE OTHER R.S.
There were four Santoros with the initials R.S. in the old corporate records.
Raphael.
His late father, Renato.
His uncle Roberto.
And his cousin Rocco.
Rocco Santoro had been dead for nine years.
Roberto was seventy-four and living in Naples.
Renato had died twelve years earlier.
That left Raphael.
Convenient.
Too convenient.
Margot sat in the conference room while Luca spread old authorizations across the table.
She should not have been there.
Technically.
She was still a temporary secretary.
Raphael had said:
“You found the pattern.”
“You stay until you choose to leave.”
That wording mattered.
Marco disliked it.
Not personally.
Operationally.
“She isn’t cleared.”
Raphael answered:
“Neither were the people who stole seventeen million.”
Conversation over.
Margot studied signatures.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Elliot’s.
Executive initials.
R.S.
Some looked consistent.
Others didn’t.
“Different pens.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
She pointed.
“These R.S. approvals.”
“Half are blue rollerball.”
“Half black felt-tip.”
Luca frowned.
“So?”
“My mother tracked writing instruments.”
“Why?”
“She said executives sign with habits.”
Margot opened Evelyn’s handwritten ledger.
There.
Tiny marks.
RS-B
RS-F
Raphael leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
“Blue.”
“Felt.”
Margot turned pages.
Her mother had separated them.
Blue approvals stopped in 2010.
Felt approvals began afterward.
Raphael said:
“My father used blue ink.”
Marco nodded.
“Always.”
“What about you?”
Margot asked.
“Black fountain pen.”
Not felt-tip.
Luca looked at old originals.
“These aren’t Raphael’s either.”
“Then who?”
They obtained handwriting samples lawfully from old board records.
Roberto.
Rocco.
Nothing matched.
Then Margot noticed something else.
The R had a strange top loop.
Familiar.
She had seen it.
Where?
Temporary staffing forms.
Cynthia.
No.
Elliot?
She pulled one photocopy.
His signature.
Elliot Vance.
The V had the same top loop.
Margot stared.
“He was forging initials.”
Luca leaned in.
“Maybe.”
“Not enough.”
Raphael agreed.
“Need proof.”
Evelyn had anticipated that.
Inside the ledger was a reference:
Tape 4 — cabinet B.
No tape in envelope.
“What cabinet?”
Margot whispered.
Raphael looked at her.
“Warehouse.”
They returned.
Row thirty-one.
Cabinet B.
Locked.
Old key system.
Security opened it under recorded chain of custody.
Inside:
Mini cassette tapes.
Seven.
Dates 2009 through 2011.
Evelyn had recorded meetings.
Maybe legally?
Illinois consent laws mattered.
Luca insisted counsel review before use.
Raphael agreed.
No shortcuts.
One tape could be listened to internally by parties who participated? Lawyers handled it.
Hours later, counsel allowed a limited review of a tape apparently recorded as Evelyn’s own meeting with Elliot and Renato Santoro.
Margot listened.
Her mother’s voice.
Alive.
Professional.
These invoices duplicate terminated vendors.
Elliot:
You don’t understand legacy accounts.
Evelyn:
Then explain them.
Renato Santoro’s voice:
Elliot handles old business. Leave it.
Evelyn:
That is not an accounting answer.
Raphael closed his eyes.
His father sounded irritated.
Then Elliot said:
Mrs. Ellery, some lines survive because they serve purposes above your level.
Evelyn replied:
Money does not become less missing because my title is smaller.
Margot started crying.
Raphael looked at her.
“She sounds like you.”
Margot laughed through tears.
“No.”
“Yes.”
The tape continued.
Renato finally said:
End the duplicate payments. Quietly. No scandal.
Elliot:
Understood.
There.
Renato ordered them stopped.
That undermined the idea he continued them.
Then another tape.
2011.
Evelyn and Elliot.
No Renato.
Evelyn:
You reopened North Harbor.
Elliot:
You are mistaken.
Evelyn:
I have copies.
Silence.
Then Elliot’s voice changed.
Be careful what you keep.
Margot’s skin went cold.
Evelyn:
Is that a threat?
Elliot:
It’s advice.
Then:
Raphael will inherit soon enough. Men like him don’t ask where old money comes from.
Raphael looked furious.
Not because of insult.
Because Elliot had been preparing to use him even before Renato died.
Then Evelyn said:
If you forge his initials, I will prove it.
Silence.
Margot stopped breathing.
Elliot:
You think anyone will believe a bookkeeper over a Santoro accountant?
Evelyn:
Maybe not.
Then her mother laughed softly.
That’s why I make copies.
The tape ended.
Margot covered her mouth.
Raphael stared at the machine.
“Your mother knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she go to police?”
Margot thought.
“Fear.”
“Of us?”
“Probably.”
He accepted that.
No offense.
Then:
“She also had me.”
Margot looked down.
“I was seventeen.”
“Daniel was nineteen.”
“Mom thought surviving quietly was safer than being right loudly.”
Raphael looked at the tapes.
“Was she right?”
Margot’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
That was the honest answer.
Then Marco entered quickly.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Elliot contacted us.”
Everyone froze.
“How?”
“Through attorney.”
“What does he want?”
“Immunity.”
Raphael laughed coldly.
“From me?”
“No.”
“Federal prosecutors.”
The room changed.
“What is he offering?”
Marco looked at Margot.
Then Raphael.
“The real inside partner.”
Raphael’s jaw tightened.
“Name?”
“Not unless agreement.”
“Do we know?”
“No.”
Margot thought about Cynthia.
Why steal now?
Why run?
Maybe Elliot’s partner had turned on them.
“What does Cynthia say?”
“Nothing.”
“Still missing.”
Then Raphael’s phone buzzed.
A photograph.
He stared.
His face changed completely.
“What?”
Margot asked.
He turned the phone.
Cynthia.
Sitting in a motel chair.
Alive.
Holding today’s newspaper.
Behind her, someone’s hand rested on her shoulder.
A ring visible.
Gold signet.
Santoro crest.
Raphael went still.
Marco whispered:
“That ring belonged to Rocco.”
Raphael stared.
“Rocco is dead.”
Marco nodded.
“Then someone kept his ring.”
A second message arrived.
Stop opening Evelyn Ellery’s boxes.
Then:
Or the next person sleeping in that warehouse won’t wake up.
Margot felt all the blood leave her face.
Raphael’s expression became terrifyingly calm.
He looked at Marco.
“Find the ring.”
Then at Margot.
“You’re not sleeping anywhere alone again.”
She bristled.
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“But someone just threatened you because of my family’s records.”
He looked at the photograph.
“That makes your safety my problem.”
Margot wanted to argue.
Then remembered the dark row.
Her broken storage unit.
Her mother’s warnings.
She nodded.
“For now.”
Raphael looked at her.
May you like
“For now.”
That was the first agreement they made that did not feel like employment.
