Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Red DressGabriel wanted Rebecca removed from Chicago.
Rebecca refused.
He suggested New York.
She refused.
Canada.
No.
A secure property in Wisconsin.
Absolutely not.
By noon, the argument had lasted almost forty minutes.
“You received a death threat.”
Rebecca folded her arms.
“So did you.”
“I’m accustomed to them.”
“What a terrible argument.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“You cannot testify if you’re dead.”
“And you cannot solve every problem by putting me somewhere you can’t see me.”
“That is not what I’m doing.”
“It feels exactly like that.”
Gabriel paced toward the window.
Rebecca continued.
“I spent seven years slowly letting Daniel make decisions for me because every decision sounded reasonable by itself.”
Gabriel stopped.
“He picked the apartment because his work was demanding.”
She swallowed.
“He handled our finances because he was better with money.”
Her voice grew quieter.
“He decided which friends were ‘bad influences.’ He told me Margaret worried too much. He told me I shouldn’t apply for office jobs because housekeeping was stable.”
Gabriel turned.
“Then one night he locked a door.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“I will not trade one locked room for a prettier one.”
The anger left Gabriel’s face.
He nodded.
“What do you want?”
“To stay.”
“Then you stay.”
“And?”
“And I increase security.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t agreement with your personality.”
“I’ll survive.”
She almost smiled.
The following week changed everything.
Federal investigators officially reopened the inquiry into Vittorio Moretti’s death.
Daniel entered a cooperation agreement.
Forensic accountants traced more than forty-two million dollars in diverted funds through shell companies connected to Enzo.
Rebecca’s forged signatures appeared on sixteen invoices.
Some had been created before she ever worked for Moretti Holdings.
The attempt to frame her became obvious.
Then came Enzo’s counterattack.
Every major Chicago gossip site suddenly published photographs of Rebecca leaving Gabriel’s estate.
Headlines called her:
THE MAFIA MAID
GABRIEL MORETTI’S SECRET LIVE-IN GIRLFRIEND
HOUSEKEEPER AT CENTER OF FAMILY WAR
One article suggested Rebecca had invented the cellar incident to extort money.
Another claimed she had seduced Daniel, Gabriel, and possibly both men simultaneously.
Rebecca read three paragraphs before throwing the phone onto the couch.
Gabriel picked it up.
“Stop reading.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“They’ve written worse about me.”
“You’re Gabriel Moretti.”
“And?”
“You can walk into a restaurant after someone calls you a criminal and the owner still gives you the best table.”
He considered that.
“Fair.”
“I walk into a grocery store and people whisper that I slept my way into a mansion.”
Gabriel’s expression darkened.
Rebecca pointed at him.
“Don’t threaten the journalists.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
He sat across from her.
“What do you want to do?”
That question had become more important between them.
Not what do I need to do for you?
What do you want?
Rebecca thought.
“Nothing.”
Gabriel frowned.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
She picked up the phone.
“I spent seven years explaining myself to Daniel. I’m finished explaining myself to strangers.”
Gabriel nodded.
Then Adrien entered.
“We have a problem.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“What kind?”
“The Moretti Foundation gala is Friday.”
“I know.”
“Enzo intends to attend.”
Rebecca sat forward.
Gabriel immediately said, “No.”
She looked at him.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I should go.”
“No.”
Rebecca smiled.
“See? That’s an order.”
Gabriel rubbed his forehead.
“Rebecca.”
“If Enzo wants everyone to believe I’m some frightened maid you manipulated, then hiding me reinforces his story.”
“This is not a publicity exercise.”
“No. It’s a fundraiser involving the same charitable network his fraud exploited.”
Adrien looked between them.
“She has a point.”
Gabriel stared at him.
Adrien cleared his throat.
“I regret speaking.”
Rebecca laughed.
Gabriel did not.
But eventually he agreed.
Friday night, Rebecca Foster walked into the Grand Moretti Hotel wearing a red dress.
She had almost chosen black.
Safe.
Quiet.
Forgettable.
Then Margaret looked at her and said, “You survived a cellar. Stop dressing like you owe people invisibility.”
So Rebecca wore red.
The ballroom contained nearly six hundred people.
Politicians.
Business executives.
Attorneys.
Judges.
Donors.
People who had probably never noticed a housekeeper unless a glass needed clearing.
Tonight, they noticed Rebecca.
Gabriel walked beside her.
He wore a black tuxedo and an expression that warned every person in the ballroom against approaching too aggressively.
Rebecca leaned toward him.
“You look terrifying.”
“I’m trying.”
“You don’t have to try.”
His mouth twitched.
Cameras flashed.
Whispers followed them.
Then Enzo appeared.
He was standing near the stage surrounded by board members.
The room seemed to hold its breath as Gabriel approached.
“Gabriel.”
“Enzo.”
Enzo looked at Rebecca.
“Miss Foster.”
“Mr. Moretti.”
His gaze moved over her dress.
“You’ve adjusted quickly.”
Rebecca understood the insult.
She smiled.
“To what?”
“Attention.”
“No.”
She looked around the ballroom.
“I’m still adjusting to how expensive everything looks when you know someone stole forty-two million dollars.”
Several nearby conversations stopped.
Enzo’s expression hardened.
Gabriel looked toward the ceiling as though asking for patience.
Enzo stepped closer.
“You should be careful repeating accusations.”
Rebecca smiled.
“Then sue me.”
Gabriel coughed.
It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Enzo walked away.
Rebecca exhaled.
“My legs are shaking.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Nobody can tell.”
“Good.”
“You were magnificent.”
Her eyes met his.
Something changed.
Not because of the compliment.
Because he meant it.
For the first time, Rebecca noticed how close they were standing.
How his attention remained on her even in a ballroom filled with powerful people.
How safe she felt beside him without feeling owned.
That distinction mattered.
Then Gabriel’s expression suddenly changed.
He grabbed her arm.
“Don’t move.”
Rebecca looked down.
A waiter had placed a champagne glass beside her.
“What?”
Gabriel stared at the server.
The man disappeared into the crowd.
Adrien moved instantly.
Gabriel picked up the napkin beneath the glass.
Written on it were four words.
ASK HIM ABOUT OCTOBER 17.
Rebecca stared.
“The day before your father died.”
Gabriel nodded.
Adrien returned several minutes later.
“The waiter wasn’t staff.”
“Find him.”
“Already working on it.”
Rebecca looked at the note.
October 17.
One day before Vittorio died.
She suddenly remembered one of the photographed pages.
“Gabriel.”
“What?”
“There was an invoice dated October seventeenth.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember.”
They left the gala immediately.
Back at the estate, Adrien opened Rebecca’s restored photo archive.
They searched image after image.
Finally Rebecca found it.
A maintenance invoice.
Not for a church.
Not a property.
A private garage.
Hawthorne Fleet Services.
October 17.
Amount: $4,800.
Description:
Emergency hydraulic line replacement — V.M. vehicle.
Gabriel stared.
Rebecca looked closer.
“Wait.”
Something was written at the bottom.
A signature.
Not Enzo’s.
Not Daniel’s.
Another name.
Marcus Hale.
Gabriel’s face changed.
Rebecca noticed.
“Who is Marcus Hale?”
Adrien answered.
“One of our security supervisors.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Current?”
Adrien nodded.
Gabriel stood slowly.
“He was part of my father’s security detail eleven years ago.”
Rebecca felt cold.
“Where is he now?”
Adrien checked his phone.
His face hardened.
“He left the gala twenty minutes ago.”
Gabriel said, “Lock the estate.”
Adrien was already moving.
Rebecca looked toward the window.
A vehicle suddenly accelerated somewhere outside.
Tires screamed against pavement.
Then came the sound of metal crashing through the western gate.
Gabriel ran toward the hall.
Rebecca followed.
“Stay inside.”
“No.”
“Rebecca—”
“You’re wasting time arguing.”
They reached the front entrance as security vehicles raced down the drive.
One of the monitors showed Marcus Hale’s SUV tearing toward Sheridan Road.
Adrien shouted into his radio.
Then another guard called from outside.
“Mr. Moretti!”
Gabriel stopped.
The guard pointed toward Gabriel’s car.
Rebecca followed his gaze.
A mechanic from the estate was kneeling near the front wheel.
His face had gone pale.
“What?” Gabriel demanded.
The mechanic stood.
“Do not drive this car.”
“Why?”
The mechanic looked at the brake assembly.
“Someone cut the hydraulic line.”
Silence.
Rebecca turned toward Gabriel.
Eleven years earlier, his father’s brakes had failed.
Tonight, someone had attempted the same thing.
Gabriel stared down the driveway where Marcus Hale had escaped.
Then Rebecca noticed something else.
A second vehicle was missing.
Margaret’s security car.
Rebecca grabbed her phone.
Her aunt did not answer.
She called again.
Nothing.
Then a message arrived.
A photograph.
Margaret sitting inside a dark vehicle.
Her hands bound.
Rebecca stopped breathing.
May you like
Beneath the photograph was one sentence.
Bring the ledger photos to St. Catherine alone.
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