Chapter 12
“The intake records from three years ago.”
His gaze rose.
“Every call, letter, and security note involving me.”
“I can give you those.”
“Unedited.”
“Yes.”
“And I want to know why Gabriel told you official rescue personnel had been verified when the fire department’s public appeal still said the civilian rescuer was unknown.”
Something hard entered his expression.
“You think he lied deliberately.”
“I think he recorded a voicemail before your foundation closed its appeal.”
Luca remained quiet.
Then he took the envelope.
“No money.”
“No.”
“What if I create a trust for Sophia and allow her to decide—”
“No.”
A flicker of frustration.
“You reject help quickly.”
“I recognize control quickly.”
The words hit their target.
He did not defend himself.
Instead, he nodded once.
“Records by tomorrow.”
He delivered them.
Not personally.
Vincent brought two sealed boxes to the hotel kitchen during my break.
Chef Marco watched him place them on a stainless-steel prep table.
“Tax audit?” Marco asked.
“Family catastrophe.”
“Worse.”
Vincent looked at me.
“You should have counsel.”
“I can’t afford yours.”
“No human being can. I was referring to independent counsel.”
“My friend Amina Cole handles employment and civil matters.”
“Call her.”
“Why?”
“Because the security files contain deletions.”
Marco handed me a sandwich.
“Eat before you discover corruption. You get irritable when the corruption is pre-lunch.”
Vincent glanced at him.
“He always like this?”
“He gets worse with trust.”
We reviewed the boxes in Amina’s office that night.
Amina had been my college roommate before becoming an attorney who represented whistleblowers, tenants, and people whose employers believed fear counted as a nondisclosure agreement.
She wore red reading glasses and sharpened pencils by hand.
“Documentation first,” she said, opening the first box. “Feelings after noodles.”
May you like
“I already ate.”
“Marco’s sandwich is an appetizer with ambition.”
