Chapter 2 - THE GIRL IN TORONTO
Carlo survived.
Barely.
The bullet entered high in his back and missed the spine by less than an inch.
Lorenzo learned that from a hospital source who owed him information.
He hated the phrase.
Owed him.
Everything in his world came with hooks.
Even medical updates.
So he had his solicitor contact the hospital properly and confirm only what Carlo had authorized once conscious.
At first:
nothing.
Carlo was sedated.
Police guarded the floor.
Good.
That meant Mateo could not simply walk in.
Then the phrase from the recording.
The girl in—
Toronto?
The audio cut before the city.
Naomi heard what Lorenzo heard.
She said:
“Could be anything.”
“Yes.”
“Could be Amaya?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Carlo didn’t know about her.”
At least Lorenzo thought.
Then he called Sophia.
His cousin answered immediately.
“Your patient is paid.”
“Good.”
“Lorenzo, what did you drag me into?”
“Nothing.”
“That means something.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“Do you have any Moretti or Russo-linked patient named girl from London?”
Sophia went silent.
“Absolutely not discussing patient records with you.”
Correct.
“I’m not asking medical information.”
“You’re asking identities.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Then:
“Ask a better question.”
He thought.
“Has anyone used my name or Mateo’s to pressure your clinic recently?”
That she could answer administratively.
Sophia paused.
“Mateo called my office two weeks ago.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Why?”
“He asked whether I still had access to the old Russo family trust account.”
“What trust?”
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
Sophia swore in Italian.
Then:
“Your fathers created a beneficiary trust twenty years ago for dependents of men killed working the London-Canada route.”
Lorenzo remembered vaguely.
A compensation pool.
Off-book originally.
Later legalized through an insurance structure.
“What did Mateo want?”
“To change a beneficiary.”
“Who?”
“I refused to discuss over phone.”
“Did he send documents?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“I can’t tell you without legal basis.”
He closed eyes.
Even family now had rules.
Good.
Then:
“Can my solicitor contact your counsel and request preservation because there may be fraud?”
“Yes.”
That was enough.
Then Naomi said:
“Your cousin really says no to you.”
“She enjoys it.”
“Maybe she’s smart.”
Lorenzo looked.
“Careful.”
This time she smiled.
Small.
Then police called.
Not because they liked him.
Because Carlo’s shooting occurred on a property tied to Lorenzo’s company.
Detective Inspector Hannah Price requested interview.
Lorenzo’s solicitor advised:
do it.
He had legal businesses.
Illegal ones.
This incident touched both.
He could not control police narrative by hiding.
He arranged a station interview with counsel.
Naomi refused to go with him.
Good.
She should not sit in his shadow while giving evidence.
A separate solicitor from a victim-support referral met her.
Lorenzo paid nothing directly.
Sophia arranged a general legal aid contribution? Better no. Naomi could qualify or lawyer through charity. Use independent solicitor funded by witness support and Naomi's own arrangement.
At station, Lorenzo described:
warehouse entry.
finding Naomi.
Mateo accusation.
Carlo message.
shooting footage.
He did not disclose every unrelated crime.
His lawyer prevented self-destruction.
But he gave the recording.
Price watched.
“Canada route is a decoy. Naomi knows about the girl in—”
Then shot.
She looked at Lorenzo.
“What girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe Naomi?”
“About Mateo abducting her? More than I did yesterday.”
“About spying on you?”
“She admitted.”
“About refusing tracker?”
“Evidence on club camera supports an argument.”
Price frowned.
“You installed cameras in dressing corridors?”
“Public hallways, not changing rooms.”
Still surveillance-heavy.
Then:
“Why didn’t you bring Naomi directly to police or hospital?”
Because criminal culture.
Because he trusted himself.
Because he feared Mateo had police contacts.
He said:
“I made a bad decision based on control.”
His lawyer glanced.
Price noticed.
“Refreshing.”
Then:
“Where is she now?”
Lorenzo’s lawyer intervened.
Naomi would speak through own counsel.
Good.
Then Mateo arrived voluntarily.
Of course.
Brother worried about brother.
Public face.
Price interviewed separately.
Mateo denied abduction.
Claimed Naomi worked as confidential source for him because he suspected Lorenzo of moving unreported weapons through Canada.
Interesting.
He produced messages.
Naomi reporting:
Lorenzo’s club schedule.
vehicle changes.
meetings.
Real.
Then:
he claimed Naomi later demanded more money.
When refused, she threatened to accuse him.
No mention of tracker.
No warehouse.
Then photograph:
Mateo arm around Naomi six months earlier.
He said:
“Friendly source.”
Then why was she tied to chair?
“I don’t know.”
Could someone frame him?
Yes.
Then Carlo.
Mateo claimed Carlo had recently become erratic and may have staged warning.
A man shot himself? No.
Price did not react.
Then Lorenzo left station.
His lawyer, Claire Duvall, said:
“He has prepared a counterstory.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t be impressed. Prepared doesn’t mean false.”
Lorenzo hated lawyers.
Then:
“What do we do?”
“We?”
“You’re my solicitor.”
“Legally, we respond to police and protect your interests. We do not conduct private interrogations.”
He knew.
Then safe house.
Naomi had slept.
When Lorenzo returned, she was standing by the laptop.
“You left this open.”
His body tensed.
“What did you touch?”
“Nothing.”
He did not believe automatically.
She saw.
“Fair.”
Then she said:
“I remembered something.”
Mateo once asked about a woman named Elena Rossi in Toronto.
Who?
Naomi did not know.
He asked whether Lorenzo ever sent money to her.
Lorenzo went still.
Elena Rossi.
A name from sixteen years earlier.
Not a lover.
A widow.
Her husband, Paolo Rossi, died working one of Lorenzo and Mateo’s earliest freight operations.
He left a daughter.
Mia.
Lorenzo had been twenty-six.
Guilty.
He and Mateo promised support.
Payments went through the dependent trust.
Then he forgot.
Not personally.
The system continued.
Maybe.
“How old would the daughter be?”
“Seventeen.”
Naomi looked.
“Girl.”
Then Lorenzo called Claire.
“Find trust records for Elena Rossi and daughter Mia.”
Claire answered:
“Through lawful channels.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then Sophia’s counsel responded to preservation request.
A beneficiary change had been submitted six months ago.
From:
Mia Rossi.
To:
a corporate education fund called North Atlantic Futures.
Authorized by:
Mateo Russo,
using a trustee resolution Lorenzo had supposedly co-signed.
Lorenzo had never seen it.
His signature appeared.
Forged.
There.
The trust held not only annual support.
Paolo Rossi’s death benefit had grown.
Current value:
£1.8 million equivalent.
Mia turned eighteen in nine months.
She would gain certain rights.
Mateo tried to move money before then.
Why?
One beneficiary?
Maybe more.
Then auditors found twelve proposed transfers.
Children of dead employees.
Total:
£14 million.
All redirected toward North Atlantic Futures.
Who controlled that entity?
A charitable trust in Toronto.
Board:
Mateo Russo.
Dryland’s brother.
And one Canadian lawyer.
No Lorenzo.
Then Naomi whispered:
“He was stealing from dead men’s kids.”
Lorenzo looked.
“Allegedly.”
She groaned.
Then:
“Why Canada route decoy?”
He understood.
The missing gun shipment that brought him to warehouse.
Maybe not guns at all.
Shipping manifests may have been manipulated to make Lorenzo focus on contraband while Mateo shifted trust assets and legitimate cargo fraud elsewhere.
Need not detail criminal method.
Then one email surfaced through company counsel.
Carlo to Lorenzo, unsent draft:
Mateo is using route losses to cover cash movements. I found beneficiaries being marked inactive though still alive. Need to talk alone.
Carlo had discovered.
He had not trusted phone.
Then the “girl in—”
Maybe Mia in Toronto.
Sophia confirmed Mia had recently been seen at her clinic? Can't share patient. But through trust counsel, they could locate beneficiary.
Mia Rossi was missing.
Her mother Elena reported her missing four days ago.
Toronto police had an open case.
Lorenzo felt the room tilt.
Naomi said:
“Mateo has her.”
No proof.
Then Lorenzo’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A girl’s voice.
Young.
Shaking.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Mia Rossi.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Then:
“A man says my father owed your family money.”
“That’s a lie.”
She started crying.
“He says if I sign something, I can go home.”
“What something?”
“A trust release.”
There.
Then a man took phone.
Mateo.
“Now we can stop pretending.”
Lorenzo’s hand tightened.
Mateo laughed softly.
“Brother, bring Naomi to the dock.”
Lorenzo’s voice went cold.
“No.”
“Then Mia signs.”
“She doesn’t sign anything.”
“She will.”
Then:
“And if you involve police, Elena Rossi gets a call no mother wants.”
Lorenzo looked at Naomi.
She was listening.
Mateo continued.
“Thirty minutes.”
Then hung up.
Old Lorenzo would have loaded guns.
Called men.
Driven to dock.
New situation required one harder thing.
He called Detective Price.
“My partner just threatened a seventeen-year-old beneficiary.”
Silence.
Then:
“Send us everything. Do not go to the dock.”
Lorenzo looked at the rain beyond shutters.
For once, he obeyed.
Before ending the call with Sophia, Lorenzo asked one more thing.
“Is Amaya actually getting the care Naomi thinks she is?”
Sophia’s voice changed.
“That is not your question to answer.”
He closed his eyes.
Right.
He had paid first and learned second.
Sophia continued:
“Naomi authorized my clinic to coordinate the outstanding private specialist costs. Her sister and mother are speaking directly with the care team. You are not the medical decision-maker.”
“Good.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Send the accounting to Naomi, not me.”
That mattered.
If he was serious that the money carried no hook, he did not need a private report showing every pound spent.
May you like
Help without surveillance.
Another thing he was learning too late.
