Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Thought She Had Won
Sophia Bennett returned to Chicago two days after Vincent.
She expected a reunion.
Instead, she discovered that the man who had spent almost two weeks at her side in Paris had stopped answering her calls.
For Sophia, being ignored was unfamiliar.
She had spent most of her adult life learning how to command attention.
At thirty-two, she possessed the effortless beauty of someone who had never experienced financial hardship for longer than a few inconvenient months.
She wore expensive clothes, spoke softly when she wanted something, and understood exactly how to make powerful men believe protecting her was their own idea.
Vincent Moretti had been susceptible to that talent since they were nineteen.
Back then, they had loved each other recklessly.
Sophia remembered stolen weekends, long drives along the lake, and the promises Vincent had made before his father demanded that he take responsibility for the family empire.
Their relationship had ended amid arguments, threats, and expectations neither of them knew how to escape.
Sophia had gone to Europe.
Vincent had stayed in Chicago.
Years later, he'd married Emily Carter.
Sophia had never accepted that decision.
She told herself Emily was temporary.
A pleasant wife.
An acceptable choice.
Someone who would eventually be replaced by the woman Vincent truly loved.
And for thirteen days in Paris, Sophia had believed the replacement was finally happening.
Vincent had answered her call.
He had boarded a plane.
He had stayed beside her through meetings with financial advisers, lawyers, gallery owners, and wealthy collectors.
He had listened when she cried about losing the business she claimed represented her entire future.
He had accompanied her to dinners where people openly assumed they were a couple.
He never corrected them quickly enough.
That was all the encouragement Sophia needed.
Now she stood outside his downtown office, furious.
"Mr. Moretti isn't receiving visitors," the receptionist said.
Sophia smiled tightly.
"He'll receive me."
"I'm sorry."
"Tell him Sophia Bennett is here."
The receptionist glanced at her screen.
"I have specific instructions."
Sophia's smile disappeared.
"From whom?"
"Mr. Moretti."
For several seconds, Sophia said nothing.
Then she turned and walked away.
She made it halfway across the lobby before a man stepped into her path.
Carlo Moretti.
Vincent's uncle.
He was sixty-one, silver-haired, impeccably dressed, and famous within the Moretti organization for smiling while delivering terrible news.
"Sophia."
She stopped.
"Carlo."
"I see my nephew isn't accepting visitors."
"He's being ridiculous."
Carlo studied her.
"Perhaps."
Sophia lowered her voice.
"Has he spoken to Emily?"
"Not directly."
"Good."
"Don't look so pleased."
She frowned.
Carlo motioned toward a private seating area.
"We need to talk."
Sophia followed him reluctantly.
Once they were seated, Carlo leaned forward.
"Emily has left the mansion."
"I heard."
"With the child."
Sophia shrugged.
"Women leave their husbands every day."
"Not every woman has access to the foundation's financial records."
Her smile faded.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Carlo watched her closely.
"Vincent has ordered an audit."
Sophia's stomach tightened.
"Of what?"
"The foundation."
She said nothing.
Carlo continued.
"The transfers you agreed to help facilitate."
Sophia looked around.
"Keep your voice down."
"Then stop behaving like a jealous teenager."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You promised Vincent would never discover those transactions."
"And you promised to keep him distracted until the final approvals were complete."
"I did."
"Apparently not well enough."
Sophia leaned closer.
"Emily doesn't know anything."
"Emily is an architectural restoration specialist who helped oversee three of the foundation's building projects. She notices invoices. She checks measurements. She keeps copies."
Sophia looked away.
Carlo's voice hardened.
"If Vincent discovers what was done in his wife's name, he will investigate every person involved."
"Then give him what he wants."
Carlo raised an eyebrow.
"Which is?"
"Emily."
Sophia spoke the name with obvious resentment.
"Let him chase her. Let him become obsessed with winning her back. He won't care about business."
Carlo stared at her.
"You still don't understand my nephew."
Sophia folded her arms.
"I understand him better than anyone."
"No. You understand the boy who loved you."
Carlo leaned forward.
"The man Vincent has become will burn down half this city if he believes someone threatened his child."
Sophia went quiet.
Carlo stood.
"Be careful what you tell him."
He walked away without another word.
Sophia remained seated, staring after him.
For the first time, she felt genuinely afraid.
Across town, Emily was having a very different morning.
She had managed three hours of uninterrupted sleep, which felt like a luxury.
Grace had finished feeding and was resting peacefully in her bassinet.
Rachel arrived carrying coffee, breakfast sandwiches, and a thick folder.
Emily opened the door.
"If that folder contains more divorce paperwork, I'm charging you rent."
Rachel tried to smile.
"I wish it did."
Emily stepped aside.
Rachel placed the folder on the kitchen table.
"Em, did you authorize any Moretti Family Foundation payments while you were in the hospital?"
Emily frowned.
"No."
"Not even electronically?"
"I was a little busy having a baby."
"That's what I thought."
Rachel opened the folder.
She showed Emily the transfer authorization.
Fourteen million dollars.
Bellweather Development.
Maison Lumière Gallery.
Emily stared.
"That's Sophia's gallery."
"You know it?"
"Vincent mentioned it before he left."
She looked at the date.
"And this says I approved the payment?"
"Yes."
Emily shook her head.
"That's impossible."
Rachel pulled out another page.
"Someone used your credentials."
Emily studied the signature.
It looked like hers.
But she'd never signed it.
Her stomach tightened.
"Rachel, why would someone do this?"
"That's what we need to determine."
Emily read the document again.
"Who else approved it?"
"Anthony Bell."
The name made her feel cold.
She remembered Anthony's voice on the telephone while she was in labor.
Mr. Moretti is unavailable.
Emily looked up.
"He's involved."
"We don't know that yet."
"He knew Vincent was in Paris. He knew I was in the hospital. He knew I wouldn't be checking anything."
Rachel nodded carefully.
"That's why we're preserving the records."
Emily turned another page.
The transfer had been classified as a renovation payment.
She frowned.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Bellweather Development."
"Yes?"
"I've seen that name before."
Rachel leaned forward.
"Where?"
Emily closed her eyes, searching through months of memories.
Before her pregnancy became difficult, she had helped the Moretti Family Foundation restore several abandoned buildings into community facilities.
One project involved transforming an old warehouse into a shelter for women and children escaping domestic violence.
Emily had personally reviewed the architectural plans.
She remembered a proposed contractor named Bellweather Development.
The company submitted a bid.
An expensive one.
And the bid included structural work that the building didn't need.
Emily had rejected it.
"Bellweather tried to win the Harbor House renovation contract," she said.
Rachel opened her notebook.
"When?"
"About eight months ago."
"Why were they rejected?"
"They quoted almost three million dollars for work that should have cost less than half that amount."
Emily's mind raced.
"And their drawings were wrong."
"Wrong how?"
"They included an elevator shaft that didn't exist."
Rachel stared.
"That's a fairly significant mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake."
Emily spoke slowly.
"I think they copied the plans from another building and changed the address."
Rachel's expression grew serious.
"Do you still have the original bid?"
Emily looked toward the living room, where several unopened moving boxes stood against the wall.
"Maybe."
She crossed the room and began searching.
Rachel helped.
They opened boxes of books, folders, old photographs, and miscellaneous belongings.
Finally, Emily found a cardboard archive box labeled:
HARBOR HOUSE — PRELIMINARY PROJECTS.
She pulled out the files.
There it was.
Bellweather Development.
The original proposal.
She opened it and began comparing the figures.
Something was wrong.
Not just inflated construction costs.
The company's banking information had been changed between the preliminary bid and the later documents attached to the foundation's records.
Emily reached for another page.
"Rachel."
"What?"
"This company didn't even have a valid contractor registration when it submitted the bid."
Rachel looked over her shoulder.
"How do you know?"
"Because I checked. That's why I wouldn't approve them."
She pulled out her handwritten notes from the original review.
On the final page, she had written:
Do not authorize. Ownership verification required.
Rachel photographed the document.
Then Emily found something else.
A business card.
The name printed beneath the Bellweather logo was unfamiliar.
But the telephone number was not.
Emily stared at the final four digits.
She had seen them on Margaret's list of emergency contacts at the mansion.
A number belonging to Anthony Bell.
She looked at Rachel.
"This isn't an ordinary accounting mistake."
Rachel nodded.
"No."
Emily glanced toward Grace.
The little girl was sleeping peacefully.
"Someone was stealing money through the foundation."
"That appears possible."
"And they used my name."
Rachel didn't answer.
Emily's voice grew quiet.
"They waited until I was giving birth."
Across Chicago, Vincent was learning the same thing from a different direction.
Nico had traced the registered ownership of Bellweather Development through several holding companies.
The final controlling entity belonged to a man named Marcus Voss.
Vincent recognized him immediately.
Voss was Carlo's longtime accountant.
He had handled questionable transactions for the Moretti organization for nearly twenty years.
Vincent called his uncle.
Carlo answered cheerfully.
"Vincent. I hear congratulations are in order."
Vincent's expression hardened.
"How did you know about Grace?"
A pause.
"The whole family knows."
"Then why didn't anyone tell me?"
"You were overseas."
The answer sounded rehearsed.
Vincent closed his eyes.
"Come to my office."
"I'm rather busy."
"Now."
Carlo's voice cooled.
"Careful, nephew."
Vincent said nothing.
Carlo finally sighed.
"Very well."
He arrived thirty minutes later.
Vincent had placed the Bellweather documents across his desk.
Carlo glanced at them.
"What's this?"
"You tell me."
Carlo picked up one page.
"Foundation payments?"
"Fourteen million dollars."
"That seems excessive."
"To Sophia's gallery."
Carlo's expression remained neutral.
"Then perhaps you should ask Sophia."
"I intend to."
Vincent pointed toward the authorization.
"Emily's signature is forged."
Carlo looked up.
"Are you certain?"
"She was in emergency treatment when this document was signed."
"People can authorize electronic transactions from hospitals."
Vincent leaned forward.
"Not while they're being treated for a life-threatening hemorrhage."
Carlo shrugged.
"Then somebody made a mistake."
"No."
Vincent stood.
"Somebody committed fraud."
For the first time, Carlo's smile disappeared.
"Be careful with accusations, Vincent."
"Then explain why Marcus Voss owns the company receiving these payments."
Silence.
Carlo set the document down.
"Marcus has many business interests."
"And you have many explanations."
Vincent walked toward the window.
"Anthony has been suspended. The foundation's accounts are frozen pending an independent audit. Nobody makes another transfer without the auditors' approval."
Carlo's face hardened.
"You're overreacting."
"My wife nearly died. My child was born. And while I was gone, someone used her identity to move millions of dollars."
Vincent turned.
"I'm not overreacting."
Carlo studied him.
Then spoke very softly.
"Your wife has always been more involved in foundation business than you realize."
Vincent didn't respond.
"What if she was taking money herself?"
The room went still.
"Choose your next words carefully," Vincent said.
Carlo spread his hands.
"I'm simply suggesting that perhaps Emily wasn't as innocent as you believe."
Vincent approached him.
"She left every diamond I ever gave her."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she walked away from a fortune rather than remain my wife."
Carlo looked unimpressed.
"That proves nothing."
"It proves you don't know her."
Vincent opened his office door.
"This conversation is over."
Carlo passed him without another word.
But before leaving, he stopped.
"You've become sentimental."
Vincent looked at him.
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"I've become a father."
That evening, Sophia received a summons to Vincent's office.
She arrived in a cream-colored dress, wearing the perfume Vincent used to compliment.
She expected anger.
She was prepared for that.
She had never expected indifference.
Vincent remained behind his desk.
"Sit down."
Sophia smiled.
"Is that how you greet someone after thirteen days together?"
"Sit."
She obeyed.
Vincent slid the payment documents across the desk.
Sophia's smile vanished.
"What's this?"
"You tell me."
She scanned the pages.
"Oh, Vincent. I thought you knew about the gallery investment."
"I didn't invest fourteen million dollars."
Sophia looked confused.
"Carlo said—"
She stopped.
Vincent leaned forward.
"What did Carlo say?"
Sophia's eyes widened slightly.
"Nothing important."
"Sophia."
She pressed her lips together.
"He said the foundation had a development partnership with my gallery."
"And you believed him?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you spent thirteen days asking me to personally rescue that gallery."
Her face flushed.
"I was desperate."
"Desperate enough to let someone forge my wife's signature?"
Sophia stood.
"I would never do that."
Vincent remained seated.
"Then cooperate with the auditors."
She stared at him.
"You're choosing Emily."
Vincent looked up.
"This isn't about choosing between two women."
"It has always been about that."
"No, Sophia."
His expression hardened.
"It was about that when I boarded the plane. It stopped being about that when I came home and found out what I'd done to my family."
Tears filled Sophia's eyes.
"Vincent, you said you still cared about me."
"I did."
"And now?"
He took a breath.
"Now I know I should have cared more about my wife."
Sophia shook her head.
"She left you."
"Yes."
"She doesn't want you."
Vincent looked toward the photograph of Grace on his desk.
"I know."
The words cost him more than Sophia could understand.
He stood.
"From now on, any communication about the gallery goes through counsel."
Sophia stared at him.
"You're throwing me away?"
Vincent's expression changed.
"No."
He walked toward the door.
"I'm finally refusing to throw anyone else away for you."
After Sophia left, Vincent returned to his desk.
He opened an email from Rachel Kim.
It contained proposed temporary arrangements for seeing Grace.
There was also a short note from Emily.
Only one sentence.
I will never prevent you from being her father, Vincent, but I am no longer willing to be your wife.
He read it three times.
Then his phone rang.
Nico.
"Sir, we've found something."
"What?"
"Bellweather made six additional transfers through accounts connected to the foundation."
Vincent went still.
"How much?"
"Approximately twenty-four million dollars in total."
"Where did it go?"
"Paris, Zurich, and two domestic shell companies."
Vincent closed his eyes.
"And the authorizations?"
"Most carry Anthony's credentials."
"Most?"
Nico hesitated.
"Three carry Emily's signature."
Vincent gripped the phone.
"All forged?"
"We believe so."
"Then find the originals."
Nico's next words changed everything.
"Vincent, someone has already submitted copies of those documents to federal investigators."
Vincent straightened.
"Who?"
"We don't know."
"Under what allegation?"
A silence.
Then Nico answered.
"That your wife embezzled money from a charitable foundation and fled the marital home to avoid an investigation."
Vincent stared at the empty chair across his desk.
Emily had left him because he abandoned her.
Now someone was trying to turn her escape into evidence of a crime.
And the most dangerous part was obvious.
If federal investigators believed the accusation, Emily's entire future could be threatened.
Including her ability to provide a safe home for Grace.
Vincent reached for his coat.
"Nico, get the foundation's outside counsel on the phone. Tell them we intend to preserve every record and cooperate with any lawful request."
"Yes, sir."
"And find out who sent those accusations."
Vincent looked at Grace's photograph.
Because he knew something now that he'd never understood before.
Emily didn't need him to buy her anything.
May you like
She needed him to stop allowing the people around him to destroy her life.
And for once, he intended to listen.
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