Chapter 2 - I Ordered a Full Audit of My Household—Then Discovered the $8,400 Was Only the Tip of the TheftBy noon, I had replaced every household account password.
By one, I had frozen discretionary spending.
By two, I had ordered a private audit.
By three, I had learned that the missing $8,400 was not the biggest problem.
It was the smallest.
Marco sat across from me with a laptop open.
“You're not going to like this.”
“I rarely do.”
He turned the screen toward me.
“Total suspicious spending over the last twelve months.”
I looked at the number.
$73,640.
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
“That's what I thought.”
“Where?”
“Maintenance.”
He clicked.
“Repairs.”
Another click.
“Specialized cleaning.”
Another.
“Security equipment.”
I frowned.
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-two thousand.”
“For what?”
“That's the problem.”
He opened the invoices.
Cameras.
Locks.
Sensors.
Replacement systems.
Emergency installations.
None of them existed.
I leaned back.
“Someone has been stealing for a year.”
“Maybe longer.”
“Why didn't accounting catch it?”
“Because the invoices are small.”
“Who approved them?”
“Mostly Evelyn.”
I stared at the screen.
Marco continued.
“But there's something else.”
He opened another file.
“The vendors are legitimate.”
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
He pointed.
“They're real companies.”
“Then?”
“The invoices are fake.”
I understood.
Someone was using real vendors.
Real names.
Real account numbers.
Fake jobs.
Fake charges.
That required knowledge.
A lot of it.
“Who has access to vendor records?”
“Evelyn.”
“Norah?”
“Limited.”
“Accounting?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“Security?”
“No.”
I stood.
“Bring me Norah.”
Norah entered my office ten minutes later.
She looked terrified.
I pointed to the chair.
“Sit.”
She did.
“You gave me the accessibility request.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked down.
“Because I thought you should see it.”
“Why did you wait three months?”
“I didn't.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“I tried to give it to you.”
“When?”
“Twice.”
“When?”
“Once after you returned from Italy.”
I remembered.
Three months earlier, I had returned from a business trip.
“Where?”
“I left it on your desk.”
“I never saw it.”
“I know.”
“Second time?”
“Last month.”
“What happened?”
“Evelyn took it.”
I stared at her.
“She took it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said you had already rejected it.”
I leaned forward.
“Did she?”
Norah shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why did she say that?”
“I don't know.”
“Norah.”
She looked at me.
“You do know.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“She said Anna was making trouble.”
I stayed silent.
“She said if Anna kept asking for special treatment, she would lose her job.”
“And Lily?”
“She said Lily was not our responsibility.”
My jaw tightened.
“Anything else?”
Norah hesitated.
“She also said…”
“What?”
“She said children of staff should learn their place.”
I looked away.
For a few seconds, I couldn't speak.
When I looked back, Norah was crying.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was scared.”
“Of Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She controls everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Schedules.”
“Pay.”
“Overtime.”
“Bonuses.”
“Room assignments.”
“Vacation.”
“She can make someone's life miserable.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
She stood.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes?”
“Please don't fire Anna.”
I looked at her.
“Why would I?”
“Because people say you're angry.”
“I am.”
“At her?”
“No.”
I glanced at the door.
“At the person who made her afraid.”
That evening, I visited the staff quarters.
Anna lived in a small room with Lily.
The room was clean.
Too clean.
Almost empty.
One bed.
One small wardrobe.
A table.
A few children's books.
And a photograph of Lily's father.
I stopped.
“Is that her father?”
Anna looked at the picture.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“He died.”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
She smiled sadly.
“He was a good man.”
Lily sat on the floor coloring.
She looked up.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Yes?”
“Mommy says you're very scary.”
Anna's face went red.
“Lily!”
I laughed.
“Does she?”
Lily nodded.
“But I don't think you're scary.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked if my knee hurt.”
I looked at Anna.
She was crying.
“Lily…”
I crouched.
“Do you know what my job is?”
She shook her head.
“I make sure people in my house are safe.”
She thought about that.
“Then can you fix the floor?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She smiled.
Then she whispered:
“Thank you.”
I stood.
Anna looked at me.
“Mr. Moretti…”
“Yes?”
“I didn't ask for anything else.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted her to stop hurting.”
“I know.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Thank you.”
I nodded.
Then I left.
But before I reached the hallway, I heard Lily ask:
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Does Mr. Moretti have children?”
Anna paused.
“No.”
“Maybe he needs one.”
I smiled despite myself.
The next morning, the threshold was gone.
A temporary ramp had been installed.
The marble had been repaired.
The sharp edge was removed.
Lily walked through the doorway.
She stopped.
Looked at me.
Then smiled.
“It doesn't hurt.”
“Good.”
She ran toward me.
Then stopped.
“Can I hug you?”
I didn't know what to say.
So I opened my arms.
She hugged me.
It lasted only three seconds.
But those three seconds changed something.
I had spent most of my life believing attachment was weakness.
My enemies had taught me that.
Love gave people leverage.
Family gave enemies targets.
Trust gave people weapons.
Then a four-year-old girl hugged me because I fixed a doorway.
And suddenly all my old rules seemed less important.
Until Marco called.
“Boss.”
“Yes?”
“We found the person behind the fake invoices.”
“Who?”
Silence.
“Tell me.”
“It's someone inside the house.”
“I know that.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“You don't know who.”
I waited.
“It's someone you trust.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Marco answered.
“Evelyn.”
I looked toward the kitchen.
Evelyn stood there.
Watching Lily.
May you like
Watching me.
And smiling.
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