Chapter 8 - Adrian’s True Enemy
By four in the afternoon, the penthouse was crawling with federal agents and forensic analysts. Julian and his hired thugs had been escorted out in handcuffs through the service entrance, away from the prying eyes of the holiday press.
In Adrian’s private study, a federal prosecutor sat before a laptop, watching as the encrypted files on Clara’s micro-SD card were decrypted line by line.
“It’s all here, Mr. Moretti,” the prosecutor said, adjusting his glasses in disbelief. “Every single transaction to the offshore accounts was authorized through Julian’s private IP address. He used a cloned digital signature of your late wife’s email to route thirty-five million dollars into Swiss holdings. Clara discovered it two days before her accident. That’s why she was heading upstate—she was going to the cabin to secure the backup drives before Julian could destroy them.”
Adrian stood by the window, his jaw clenched, his eyes reflecting the dark gray storm clouds outside. The truth was finally out. His wife had not been an embezzler, nor had she been complicit. She had been an innocent woman murdered by her cousin’s greed.
“The board has already been notified,” the prosecutor added, standing up and packing his files. “Julian’s shares have been frozen by emergency court order. The board has unanimously reaffirmed your position as chairman and CEO. You have your company back, Adrian.”
“Thank you,” Adrian said quietly.
When the agents finally cleared out, the penthouse fell back into its vast, echoing stillness.
Emma sat on the living room sofa, her canvas bag packed and resting beside her boots. The fifty thousand dollars had already cleared into her bank account—she had checked her phone an hour earlier, staring in shock at the five-figure balance that completely changed her financial future. Her contract was fulfilled. The crisis was over.
Elena brought out a tray of warm tea. “You’re leaving, Miss Emma?”
“I should,” Emma said, offering a soft smile. “Mr. Moretti has a lot to deal with. And I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
Before Elena could answer, Adrian walked into the room. He had changed back into a dark suit, but he had left the top two buttons of his shirt open, and his tie was nowhere to be seen. He stopped when he saw her canvas tote bag sitting on the floor.
“You’re packed,” he said.
“A deal’s a deal,” Emma replied, standing up and smoothing down the cream sweater. “You paid me to stay through Christmas. It’s almost five o'clock. You and Sophie need time as a family.”
Adrian walked over, stopping just two feet in front of her. For the first time since she had met him outside Bellini’s, he looked completely uncertain of himself.
“Without you, Emma, Julian would have taken everything,” Adrian said softly. “You saved my daughter’s legacy. You saved Clara’s name. A wire transfer doesn't begin to cover what you did today.”
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“I didn't do it for the money, Adrian,” Emma said, looking directly into his storm-gray eyes. “I did it because nobody should feel alone when the world gets cruel. Especially not Sophie.”
“Then don't leave,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into an earnest, raw plea.
