Chapter 3 - THE YELLOW DEPOSIT SLIP
The chandeliers seemed to hum in the silence.
I stared at Teresa Moretti. My mind could barely process her words.
“Mrs. Moretti,” I said, my voice trembling. “My husband told me he was a foreman. He wore a hard hat. He poured concrete.”
Teresa shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
“He lied to protect you, Claire,” she whispered. “Mark Bennett was hired by the city. He was sent to investigate Bellini Construction because rumors were swirling that they were using cheap, unreinforced steel to save money.”
Sophie grabbed my hand. Her fingers were ice cold.
“Mom?” she whispered. “What does she mean?”
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was looking at Vanessa Bellini.
Vanessa was no longer trying to look composed. Her eyes darted toward the dining room doors, as if calculating how quickly she could leave.
Luca stepped directly into her path.
“Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice dangerously low. “Did your father’s company cut corners on the South Side project?”
“This is ridiculous!” Vanessa snapped, her voice pitching high. “You’re listening to an old woman and a maid! That scaffolding collapsed because of a storm. The city cleared us!”
“The city cleared you because the safety inspector died before he could file his report,” Luca countered, taking another step toward her. “Didn't he?”
Vanessa lifted her chin. She knew she was cornered.
And when cruel people are cornered, they reach for their sharpest weapon.
“Fine,” Vanessa sneered. “He was an inspector. He found cracks. But he didn't die an honest hero, Luca.”
She reached into her expensive designer clutch.
Her fingers pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was an old, yellow carbon copy of a bank deposit slip.
She threw it onto the pristine white tablecloth.
“Your precious Mark Bennett found the structural flaws,” Vanessa said, glaring at me. “And then he came to my father’s office and demanded fifty thousand dollars to keep his mouth shut.”
I felt the breath leave my lungs.
“No,” I whispered. “Mark wouldn't do that.”
“He did,” Vanessa smiled coldly. “My father paid him the bribe. And Mark was up on that scaffolding the next day trying to steal copper wire anyway, because greedy people are always greedy.”
She pointed a manicured finger at the yellow slip.
“There’s the proof. A fifty-thousand-dollar deposit, made the morning of his death, into a private trust account for a little girl named Sophie Bennett.”
Sophie let out a small, wounded cry.
She backed away from the table, looking at the yellow paper as if it were a snake.
“Mom,” Sophie whispered, her voice breaking. “Did Dad take a bribe for me?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said desperately, reaching for her. “I’ve never seen that money. We didn't get any money when he died. Just his life insurance, which barely covered the funeral.”
“Because the account was frozen when he died during a felony theft,” Vanessa stated smugly. “It’s been sitting in escrow for eight years. Your father sold his soul, Sophie. And he didn't even get to spend the money.”
Sophie covered her face with her hands, sobbing.
The image of her father—the man she had worshipped, the man she had grieved for eight years—was being systematically destroyed in front of twenty-eight strangers.
Luca walked over to the table.
He didn't look at Vanessa. He didn't look at the guests.
He picked up the yellow deposit slip.
He stared at it for a long, quiet moment.
The tattoos on his neck shifted as he swallowed.
Then he slowly looked up at Vanessa.
“You’re right about one thing,” Luca said quietly. “This is a receipt for fifty thousand dollars. Deposited into a trust for Sophie Bennett.”
Vanessa smiled triumphantly. “I told you.”
“But you’re wrong about who paid it,” Luca continued.
He turned the yellow slip around so Vanessa could see it.
He pointed to the signature line at the bottom.
“This wasn't signed by your father, Vanessa.”
Vanessa’s smile vanished. “What?”
“It was signed by mine,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “My father, Don Moretti, paid this money. Eight years ago.”
I stared at Luca in shock.
Why would the Moretti family pay a bribe to my husband to protect the Bellini family?
Teresa Moretti let out a shattered sob.
May you like
She gripped her silver rosary and closed her eyes.
“It wasn't a bribe, Luca,” Teresa wept. “It was restitution.”
