Chapter 4 - 814 Lexington Avenue
The vendor was called Bright Futures Family Services.
Professional name.
Professional invoices.
Professional fraud.
Elena had copied eleven months of payments.
$37,000.
$42,000.
$39,500.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Total:
$438,000.
I called my accountant.
“Check Bright Futures.”
He called back twenty minutes later.
“No employees we can verify. No operating license matching the services billed.”
“Address?”
“814 Lexington Avenue.”
I knew the address.
Dominic did too.
It belonged to his mother.
My sister-in-law, Celeste.
I looked at my nephew.
“Your mother owns Bright Futures?”
“No.”
“Then why is her address on the registration?”
“I don't know.”
“Bad answer.”
Elena interrupted.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
Bright Futures wasn't the only vendor.
Three companies received suspicious payments.
A catering service.
A building-maintenance contractor.
A community-outreach consultant.
All supposedly supporting foundation programs.
Combined payments:
Just over $2.4 million.
Exactly our missing amount.
Elena had found the pattern accidentally.
Dominic ordered her to destroy old invoices.
She noticed identical formatting across companies that supposedly had different owners.
Same spelling mistakes.
Same invoice numbering.
Same contact initials.
She copied everything before shredding anything.
“Why didn't you call me?”
Elena's eyes dropped.
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Twice.”
My assistant had no record.
Dominic smiled faintly.
Then I remembered.
Three months earlier, Dominic persuaded me to let his executive office coordinate foundation communications because I was recovering from surgery.
He controlled access.
He intercepted Elena.
She continued.
“The second time I tried, Mr. Dominic called me upstairs.”
“What did he say?”
“That if I contacted you again, I'd lose my job and apartment.”
“Apartment?”
The club owned subsidized employee housing nearby.
Elena lived there with Maeve.
Dominic wasn't threatening one paycheck.
He was threatening their home.
That explained why Elena endured him.
Then Maeve opened her little fist.
The coins she had given me were back in her palm.
She held them toward her mother.
“Mommy.”
Elena's eyes filled.
“Where did you get those?”
Maeve whispered:
“My piggy.”
Her piggy bank.
The child had emptied her savings because she thought I needed them.
While Dominic had allegedly diverted millions intended for families exactly like hers.
I looked at my nephew.
Something in me changed permanently.
Then my accountant called again.
“Rocco, you need to hear this.”
“What?”
“We traced one vendor's bank transfers.”
“To whom?”
He hesitated.
“Not Dominic.”
I looked at my nephew.
For one brief second, he looked relieved.
Then my accountant gave me the name.
“Celeste Bellini.”
May you like
Dominic's mother.
My late brother's widow.
