Chapter 6
Two days later, Sophie called.
“I found Martin Vale.”
Richard’s former accountant.
“Where?”
“Retired. Vermont.”
“How did you find him?”
“LinkedIn.”
I stared at the phone.
“That’s disappointingly normal.”
“I know. I wanted a secret phone book.”
Martin agreed to a video call.
Luca insisted on joining.
So did Sophie.
Martin appeared on screen from what looked like a study filled with books and bird photographs.
He was seventy-four now.
I remembered him as a quiet man with wire-rimmed glasses who always left parties early.
When he saw me, his expression became sad.
“You look like Tom.”
People had told me that all my life.
Usually it comforted me.
This time, it felt like a key turning.
“You knew my father well?”
“For a while.”
“Did you prepare documents for Cole Meridian?”
Martin removed his glasses.
“Yes.”
The answer came too easily.
Luca leaned toward the camera.
“Mr. Vale, before this conversation continues, I want to make clear we aren’t asking you to disclose privileged information improperly.”
Martin smiled.
“You’re Thomas Moretti’s son.”
“Yes.”
“You sound exactly like him when he was nervous.”
Luca frowned.
“I’m not nervous.”
Sophie covered a laugh.
Martin continued.
“I can tell you about documents I personally refused to execute.”
The room became still.
“What documents?” I asked.
“Releases concerning the Moretti participation interest.”
“Who requested them?”
“Richard.”
My throat tightened.
“Did Adrian know?”
Martin hesitated.
“Yes.”
The word hurt.
But not in the way I expected.
It did not shatter anything.
By then, there was little left to shatter.
“How much did he know?”
“That is harder to answer.”
“Try.”
Martin looked directly into the camera.
“Adrian knew the Moretti family held an old claim connected to Hawthorne. He knew Richard wanted it resolved. I do not believe Adrian understood the full history between Richard and your father.”
“Did he know documents were being prepared in my name?”
“Yes.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
I forced myself to continue.
“Did he ask you to falsify my signature?”
“No.”
“Did Richard?”
“No.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Then who did?”
Martin sighed.
“I don’t know.”
I felt frustration rise.
“You said you refused to execute documents.”
“Yes. Richard asked whether Elena’s prior signatures on general consents could support the release. I told him absolutely not. I told him each Moretti heir needed independent representation.”
“And then?”
“Richard was furious.”
“What happened?”
“I resigned six weeks later.”
“That was five years ago.”
“Yes.”
“So the false documents were created after you left?”
“Most likely.”
Sophie stared at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me this when I asked?”
Martin’s expression softened.
“Because you asked while you were still working under your father.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s an excuse.”
The phrase echoed Dad’s letter.
Silence disguised as protection.
Adults making decisions for other adults because truth was inconvenient.
I asked the final question.
“Why did Richard want the release so badly?”
Martin looked down.
“Because Hawthorne’s financing assumed those old rights had been extinguished.”
“And they weren’t.”
“No.”
“What happens now?”
“That depends on what you want.”
I almost laughed.
Everyone kept saying that.
For years, decisions around me had been framed as inevitable.
Now everything seemed to return to the same uncomfortable place.
What do you want?
After the call ended, Sophie stayed connected.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“My family.”
I thought about it.
“You are your family too.”
She looked surprised.
“That doesn’t mean you’re responsible for every choice they made.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“You still sound like you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You always find a way to make room for people.”
I leaned back.
“I’m trying to learn the difference between making room and disappearing.”
She smiled sadly.
“That’s probably useful.”
May you like
“For both of us.”
—
