Chapter 2
The monthly payments were real.
Roman confirmed it before midnight.
His accountant brought thirty-six transfer confirmations to the estate.
Every month, on the fifth business day, fifty thousand dollars left Roman’s personal account.
The destination was not Nora’s old bank account.
It was a D’Angelo Family Office distribution account.
Roman stared at the routing instructions.
“Why?”
His accountant, Victor Ames, looked uncomfortable.
“The arrangement was changed three years ago.”
“By who?”
“Your mother brought authorization from family counsel.”
Roman looked at him.
“My signature?”
“Your standing authorization.”
That distinction mattered.
Years earlier, Roman had granted the family office limited authority to redirect household and dependent-support payments when security required it.
At the time, it was practical.
Now it looked insane.
“Where did the money go after it reached the distribution account?”
Victor opened another file.
“That’s the problem.”
The money had been dispersed through a series of designated beneficiary accounts.
None carried Nora Bennett’s name.
One was labeled:
NB Protective Housing.
Another:
Sophie Child Expense Reserve.
A third:
Emergency Family Security.
Roman leaned closer.
“How much reached Nora?”
Victor swallowed.
“I can’t confirm any did.”
Roman looked toward the sitting room where Nora and Sophie were asleep.
His daughter had eaten two full plates of food before finally falling asleep with her head against Nora’s leg.
“Find out.”
Victor hesitated.
“Some of these records are controlled by Mrs. D’Angelo’s office.”
“Not anymore.”
By two in the morning, Roman had Helena’s access suspended.
She demanded to see him.
He refused.
Instead, he spoke to Nora again after Sophie was asleep upstairs.
Nora had showered and changed into clothes Marianne’s maid provided.
Roman noticed an old scar near her wrist.
He did not ask.
Not yet.
“How did you end up at the gala?”
Nora looked toward the door before answering.
“I got a letter.”
Roman frowned.
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
She reached into a battered handbag and removed an envelope.
Inside was a printed invitation to the charity gala.
No note.
No sender.
Only the date, time, and estate address.
Roman examined the envelope.
Chicago postmark.
Sent eight days earlier.
“You came because of this?”
“At first I thought it was cruel.”
“Then why come?”
Nora’s eyes moved toward the staircase.
“Sophie saw your photograph on the invitation.”
Roman looked at it.
The gala program included his picture as host.
“She said it looked like her dad.”
Nora’s voice cracked.
“I told her she was imagining it.”
Roman felt his jaw tighten.
“Then?”
“I looked closer.”
She stared at him.
“You looked older. But alive.”
Someone had wanted Nora to come.
That introduced a new problem.
Helena had spent three years keeping them apart.
Yet someone inside or near the family had deliberately sent Nora the one invitation that could expose everything in a room full of witnesses.
Roman looked at the envelope again.
The money trail was hidden.
May you like
The reunion was not accidental.
And whoever mailed that invitation had just forced Helena’s secret into the light.
