Chapter 2 - THE ACCOUNT THAT SHOULD HAVE STAYED CLOSED
Gemma returned to the office at six that evening.
Not as an employee.
That distinction mattered.
Dominic was waiting in the executive conference room with Maya Alvarez and an outside forensic accountant named Jonathan Price.
Gemma stopped in the doorway.
“What is he doing here?”
Dominic looked up.
“Independent review.”
She glanced at Jonathan.
“You hired someone outside family.”
“Yes.”
“Who chose?”
“Maya.”
Maya lifted coffee.
“I chose someone who hates organized crime and bills like surgery.”
Jonathan smiled.
“I prefer skeptical.”
Gemma sat.
“Good.”
Dominic pushed a folder toward her.
“Before we start.”
She opened.
A consulting agreement.
Thirty days.
Fixed retainer.
Independent status.
No obligation to work beyond agreed hours.
No reporting line to Dominic directly; she would report to the special review committee formed by Maya and two outside counsel members.
Gemma read every page.
Dominic waited.
She reached section on hours.
“Ten per day maximum except emergency with written consent.”
“Yes.”
“Whose consent?”
“Yours.”
She looked up.
“Good.”
Maya smiled.
Jonathan pretended not to.
Gemma signed.
Then:
“My secretary role?”
“Suspended with pay while we review structure.”
“Suspended sounds disciplinary.”
“I can call it administrative leave.”
“Better.”
“Fine.”
Maya said:
“Can we investigate crime now?”
Gemma opened Widow and Family Trust files.
The trust had begun fifteen years earlier after a waterfront conflict killed several Falcone-affiliated workers and left families without income.
Dominic’s father, Lorenzo Falcone, created a fund to support spouses and children.
Legitimate purpose.
Dirty funding.
Cash from illegal operations flowed into legitimate insurance and education payments.
When Lorenzo died nine years ago, the trust became vulnerable.
Three trustees disappeared.
One was found dead.
Two simply vanished from New York.
Dominic closed it.
Gemma looked at him.
“You were twenty-nine.”
“Yes.”
“Why not preserve legal support another way?”
“I did. Through Falcone Employee Relief Fund.”
“That one is audited.”
“Yes.”
“So why reopen old trust?”
“I didn’t.”
Jonathan projected money flow.
The diverted twenty percent from Sal’s docks moved through six accounts before landing in Widow Trust.
Then, within minutes, it left again.
Gemma leaned forward.
“To where?”
Jonathan changed slide.
“Bellweather Maritime.”
Gemma frowned.
She knew that name.
One of the shell vendors flagged during federal raid.
Dante had called it a customs broker.
Sal said it was storage subcontractor.
Neither description matched invoices.
“Who owns Bellweather?”
“On paper, a Delaware holding chain.”
“Beneficial owner?”
Jonathan looked at Dominic.
“Carlo Falcone.”
Dominic’s uncle.
The room cooled.
Gemma had met Carlo twice.
Seventy-one.
Polite.
Old-world charm.
Chairman emeritus of Falcone Shipping.
The man who publicly claimed he had retired.
Dominic said:
“My uncle has no operational role.”
Maya replied:
“Apparently his bank account disagrees.”
Gemma kept reading.
“Could ownership be outdated?”
Jonathan nodded.
“Possible.”
“No assumptions.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You really took that.”
“Yes.”
They pulled Bellweather contracts.
One signature repeatedly appeared:
Dante Falcone.
Gemma frowned.
“Dante knew company.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“He signed port vendor onboarding.”
“That does not mean he knew Carlo owned it.”
“No.”
Maya checked conflict disclosures.
Dante had certified no familial interest.
Problem.
Dominic called him.
“Come upstairs.”
Dante arrived ten minutes later.
He saw Gemma.
“You’re back.”
“Temporarily.”
His expression softened.
“You scared hell out of everyone.”
“By sleeping?”
“By making Dominic cancel meeting.”
Gemma almost smiled.
Dominic did not.
“Sit.”
Dante sat.
Dominic slid Bellweather ownership chart.
Dante read.
His face changed.
“What is this?”
“You tell me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You signed onboarding.”
“Yes. Sal recommended vendor.”
Gemma looked.
“Sal?”
Dante nodded.
“He said Bellweather could move overflow faster.”
“Did you verify beneficial ownership?”
“Legal did.”
“Who?”
“Celso Grant.”
General counsel.
Another person.
Gemma wrote.
Dante saw signature from his conflict certification.
“I did not know Carlo owned it.”
“Would you have approved if knew?” Jonathan asked.
“No.”
Dominic said:
“Why were you so certain Sal skimmed twenty percent?”
Dante leaned back.
“Because I saw his dock account down twenty.”
“You did not trace transfer?”
“I’m underboss, not accountant.”
Gemma said:
“That sentence is why I don’t sleep.”
Dante looked ashamed.
“Fair.”
She continued:
“Who told you money disappeared?”
“Felix.”
Silence.
Security chief.
Missing.
Dante explained.
At midnight Felix came to him with summary showing Sal’s numbers off twenty percent.
Dante summoned meeting.
“Did Felix mention Gemma’s authorization?”
“No.”
“Did he know she would be in meeting?”
“Yes.”
Everyone did.
So Felix used Gemma’s credentials while she sat beside Dominic and simultaneously pushed accusation toward Sal.
That looked like framing.
But why?
Maya said:
“Felix’s apartment is empty.”
“Family?”
“Wife died years ago. No children.”
“Accounts?”
“Normal.”
“Phone?”
“Off.”
Dominic stood.
“I’ll have people find him.”
Gemma said:
“Not hurt him.”
He looked.
“I didn’t say hurt.”
“You thought.”
Dante coughed into fist.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Gemma continued:
“If Felix cloned my credentials, I want reason before punishment.”
“He endangered you.”
“How?”
“He used your name.”
“That is not physical danger.”
“He also knows your address.”
“So does payroll.”
Dominic did not like logic when frightened.
Good to know.
Maya’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Dominic.
“NYPD found Felix’s car.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn waterfront.”
Empty.
Blood on driver seat.
Gemma’s stomach turned.
Dominic’s face went still.
Dante whispered:
“Jesus.”
Maya continued:
“No body.”
Gemma stared at Dominic.
“Do not assume.”
He looked at her.
“Someone wants us to.”
Exactly.
Felix’s disappearance now made him look guilty and possibly dead.
Convenient.
Detective? We need perhaps involve law enforcement though mafia. They can have trusted investigator. Better NYPD independently because abandoned bloody car. Detective Rina Cole assigned. But Dominic distrust. Okay.
Detective Rina Cole arrived at Falcone tower at nine.
She did not ask permission to be unimpressed.
“Mr. Falcone.”
“Detective.”
“Your security chief may be victim or fugitive.”
“Yes.”
“Anyone here threaten him lately?”
Half room could answer yes.
Gemma said:
“No documented threat.”
Cole looked.
“Who are you?”
“Gemma Hayes. Independent consultant.”
Dante almost smiled.
Cole asked about Felix’s role.
Dominic gave minimal.
Gemma gave full relevant corporate details.
Dominic noticed.
Did not stop.
Good.
Cole requested access logs.
Maya provided under counsel.
No obstruction.
Progress.
Then Cole asked:
“Did Felix have reason to fear anyone in this building?”
Silence.
Dante said:
“Everyone.”
Not helpful.
Gemma asked:
“Could blood be identified?”
“Preliminary says human. DNA pending.”
“Amount?”
“Enough to suggest injury, not necessarily death.”
Good.
Facts.
Cole left.
At ten, Gemma stood.
“I’m done for today.”
Dominic checked clock.
“You’ve worked four hours.”
“Yes.”
He looked almost confused.
She smiled.
“New contract.”
Maya laughed.
Gemma packed.
Dominic said:
“I’ll drive you.”
“No.”
“Car.”
“No.”
“Security?”
“One visible person outside apartment building.”
He nodded.
“Agreed.”
That was easy.
Too easy.
In elevator, Dante joined.
“Gemma.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Forty-six hours.”
“You did not schedule all.”
“I scheduled enough.”
She looked.
“You want forgiveness?”
“No. I want to fix workflow.”
Better.
“Then hire two people.”
He blinked.
“Two?”
“Yes.”
“Dominic will—”
Elevator doors opened.
“Tell him accounting said so.”
She left.
At home, nothing looked disturbed.
Gemma lived in a small Astoria apartment with too many books and one dying basil plant.
She locked door.
Security officer remained in lobby.
She showered.
Ate cereal.
At midnight, she opened kitchen drawer for scissors.
Something was missing.
Her black notebook.
Gemma kept paper notes of anomalies she did not yet understand.
Not secrets.
Questions.
The notebook had been there that morning before audit raid.
She searched.
Desk.
Bag.
Bedroom.
Nothing.
Her jewelry untouched.
Cash untouched.
Laptop backup drive still hidden.
Only notebook.
She called building security.
Then Dominic.
He answered before first ring finished.
“What happened?”
“My apartment was entered.”
His voice changed.
“Are you inside?”
“Yes.”
“Get out.”
“Security is downstairs.”
“Gemma.”
“I’m leaving.”
Good.
She took coat and went to lobby.
Dominic arrived with Detective Cole? Better he calls her too. He arrived ten minutes later with security, but Cole also due breaking entering.
He did not touch Gemma.
“What was taken?”
“Notebook.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“What was in it?”
“Questions.”
“What questions?”
She thought.
Vendor anomalies.
Foundation payments.
One line about Bellweather.
One about Felix.
And one older note from eleven months ago.
A transfer she never resolved.
$640,000 from Falcone Shipping to a nursing facility in New Jersey.
Recipient reference:
L.F.
Gemma had assumed Lorenzo Falcone? Dominic's dead father? Maybe payment tied to someone alive.
She had written:
WHO IS L.F.?
Dominic’s face changed.
“What?”
“Do you know initials?”
He did not answer immediately.
“Dominic.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
Gemma stared.
“Your mother is dead.”
“That is what everyone believes.”
Oh no, fake death trope. Maybe avoid. Could be his grandmother "Lucia Falcone" alive in private care, family secret. Better L.F. = Lucia Falcone, Dominic's grandmother, who is officially in convent? Hmm. Let's make his younger sister "Lena Falcone" missing? Could be more compelling but dead-alive recurring. Let's instead L.F. = Lorenzo Falcone Foundation? Maybe not.
Maybe "Lucia Falcone", Dominic's aunt and Carlo's estranged wife, in long-term care. But why secret? She witnessed old trust trustees disappear and has been hidden for safety. That's good. She is alive, known privately but not public.
Dominic says:
“My aunt Lucia.”
“Carlo’s wife?”
“Estranged.”
“Why is Falcone Shipping paying a nursing facility for her?”
“Because she is under private protection.”
“From whom?”
“Carlo.”
Gemma’s blood chilled.
The owner of Bellweather.
The widow trust.
Missing security chief.
She looked at Dominic.
“Your aunt knows something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“She was one of the three trustees who disappeared eight years ago.”
Gemma stared.
“You told me two vanished.”
“Yes.”
“You know where one is.”
“Yes.”
“Why lie?”
“To protect her.”
There it was.
Gemma’s anger rose.
“You brought me into an investigation and withheld the living witness.”
“She is ill.”
“Then say that.”
“She has dementia episodes.”
“Then say that.”
“I did not want Carlo to know—”
“He may already know. My notebook had payment.”
Dominic went still.
Exactly.
Someone broke into Gemma’s apartment because the notebook linked L.F. to secret facility.
If Carlo owned Bellweather and someone was reopening Widow Trust, Lucia might be target.
Dominic called security.
“Move Lucia.”
Gemma grabbed his sleeve.
“Ask her.”
He looked.
“What?”
“Does she want to move?”
“She is in danger.”
“She is also a person.”
He stared.
Then exhaled.
“Call facility. Ask if she can speak.”
That was better.
The nurse connected.
Lucia Falcone’s voice came thin but clear.
“Dominic?”
“Aunt Lucia.”
“You sound frightened.”
“I need to move you tonight.”
“No.”
He closed eyes.
“Aunt—”
“No. Last time your family moved me without asking, I lost six years.”
Gemma felt that sentence.
Dominic did too.
Lucia continued:
“If Carlo finally opened Widow Trust again, I’m done hiding.”
Dominic froze.
“How do you know?”
Lucia laughed softly.
“Because Felix came to see me yesterday.”
Gemma’s skin prickled.
“Felix?”
“Yes.”
“He said someone was using Gemma Hayes’s name.”
Gemma leaned toward phone.
“Ms. Falcone, this is Gemma.”
A pause.
“The secretary.”
“Formerly. Temporarily. It’s complicated.”
Lucia laughed.
“Good. Complicated women live longer around Falcones.”
Dominic looked offended.
Gemma almost smiled.
“What did Felix tell you?”
“He found account. He thought Carlo was moving money again.”
“Where is Felix now?”
Lucia’s voice changed.
“He never reached me.”
“What?”
“He called from road. Said someone was following.”
Gemma’s stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“He said one word before call ended.”
“What?”
Lucia whispered:
“Dante.”
The lobby went silent.
Dominic looked at Gemma.
Dante Falcone.
His underboss.
His oldest friend.
May you like
Again.
And this time a missing man had named him out loud.
