Chapter 2 - The Sister Without a Body

Nobody in Luca Moretti’s office moved for several seconds.

On the monitor, the woman dressed like Belini was frozen mid-step.

Same dark hair.

Same red clothing.

Same height.

But the wrist tattoo belonged to Alessandra Moretti.

Luca’s sister.

Dead eight years.

“Open the death file,” Luca said.

Marco did not argue.

The file appeared within minutes.

Car explosion outside Verona.

Vehicle burned.

Body recovered.

Identification confirmed.

Luca read the last line twice.

“Confirmed by whom?”

Marco checked.

“A private pathologist hired by the family.”

“Name?”

“Dr. Paolo Serra.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Turin.”

Luca looked at him.

“Call him.”

Belini remained seated, unusually pale.

Emma stood near the desk, regretting that she had ever asked her mother for twenty-eight euros.

Then Luca turned toward her.

“You saw the tattoo.”

Emma nodded.

“And the ring.”

“Yes.”

“You stay.”

Belini looked at him.

“She is a maid.”

Luca’s gaze cooled.

“She is the reason forty-one employees are no longer invisible.”

Belini said nothing.

Marco reached Serra.

The old doctor answered on video.

At first, he insisted the death report was accurate.

Then Luca asked one question.

“Did you personally identify Alessandra?”

Silence.

Serra looked away.

“No.”

Belini inhaled sharply.

Luca’s voice became quieter.

“Explain.”

“The remains were badly burned. I was given dental records.”

“By whom?”

“Your family attorney.”

“Which one?”

Serra hesitated.

“Enzo Vitale.”

Marco looked up.

Vitale had died three years ago.

Convenient.

Luca continued.

“DNA?”

“None.”

“Jewelry?”

“A signet ring.”

“Photographs?”

“No.”

Luca leaned back.

“So you identified my sister from records supplied by a lawyer and a ring anyone could wear.”

Serra swallowed.

“Yes.”

The call ended.

Marco opened the funeral file.

Closed casket.

Private burial.

No independent examination.

Luca stared at the screen.

Eight years of grief had just become a clerical possibility.

Belini spoke carefully.

“You think she staged her death.”

“I think someone did.”

Emma looked at the security footage again.

“She knew the estate.”

Luca glanced at her.

“What?”

“The woman walked straight to your office.”

Marco nodded.

“No hesitation.”

Emma continued.

“She also knew where the signing token was.”

Luca’s expression hardened.

Alessandra had grown up in Moretti houses.

She would know.

Marco pulled Alessandra’s archived access privileges.

Most had been disabled after her death.

One had not.

Family emergency proxy.

Created by Luca’s father.

Never revoked.

Marco went still.

“Boss.”

Luca looked over.

The proxy had permission to authenticate executive documents if paired with a Moretti physical token.

Emma understood.

“She didn’t need to copy your entire signature.”

“No.”

Luca’s voice hardened.

“She only needed my token.”

Belini stood.

“This proves she entered the office. It does not prove she stole salaries.”

“Correct.”

Luca almost sounded approving.

Then Marco’s screen flashed.

They had located Dario Alcázar.

He had tried to leave the city through a private terminal.

Moretti security intercepted him before boarding.

An hour later Dario sat in Luca’s estate office.

No threats.

No raised voices.

Only Luca across from him.

Dario looked more frightened by the silence than he would have been by a gun.

Luca placed Emma’s payroll record on the desk.

“You stole from her.”

Dario shook his head.

“I processed deductions.”

“Who created them?”

“Miss Vassaro.”

Belini’s face hardened.

“I have never authorized employee deductions.”

Dario stared at her.

Then frowned.

It was subtle.

Emma noticed.

“You’ve never met her,” she said.

Everyone turned.

Dario looked at Emma.

“What?”

“You keep calling her Miss Vassaro, but you’re looking at her like this is the first time you’ve seen her.”

Silence.

Luca leaned forward.

“Is it?”

Dario’s face changed.

“She never met me in person.”

Belini stared.

“Then how did she instruct you?”

“Calls. encrypted voice notes. signed directives.”

“Video?”

“No.”

“Photographs?”

Dario hesitated.

“One.”

Marco showed him Belini’s photo.

Dario shook his head.

“That’s not the woman.”

The room went still.

Luca opened the security still of Alessandra disguised in red.

Dario’s face drained of color.

“That’s her.”

Belini sat back.

Emma felt the shape of the mystery change.

Dario had not been working for Belini.

He had been working for someone pretending to be her.

Luca’s voice dropped.

“What did she tell you?”

Dario stared at the photograph.

“That you would never check servant payroll.”

Luca’s expression did not move.

“And what was the money for?”

Dario swallowed.

“A reserve account.”

“What reserve?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much is in it?”

“Thirty-two thousand from payroll.”

“That is what you took.”

Dario looked terrified.

“No.”

Marco’s screen refreshed.

Dario was right.

The payroll account held only thirty-two thousand.

But the same reserve account had received transfers from six Moretti vendors.

Insurance.

Catering.

Maintenance.

Security.

Total:

€4.8 million.

Emma stared.

“This was never about our salaries.”

Luca looked at the number.

“No.”

His sister had used forty-one employees to hide a much larger stream.

Then Marco opened the beneficiary record.

The final recipient was not Belini.

Not Dario.

Not Alcázar.

It was a dormant company Luca recognized immediately.

ALESSANDRA MORETTI HOLDINGS.

Closed eight years ago.

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Reactivated six months earlier.

The same night the woman in red entered his office.