The reality of Julian’s hidden audio recording, his casual arrangement for my liquidation, settled over me like a shroud. I couldn’t go to the police. Not yet. Not with Julian’s legal maneuvers painting me as a mentally unstable embezzler. They would spend months investigating, sifting through the layers of deceit he had built.
And Moretti didn’t wait months.
I picked up the secure burner phone Leo had given me. There was only one person who could confirm the true extent of Julian’s deception within the firm’s financial infrastructure: Ray Callahan.
Ray, our internal forensic auditor, was a quiet man, meticulous to a fault. He answered on the second ring, his voice sounding tired, strained.
“Ray, it’s Marcus,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I know this is risky, but I need you to be honest with me. About the Moretti accounts.”
There was a long silence on the other end, punctuated by what sounded like a deep sigh. “Marcus… you shouldn’t be calling me. Elena’s got the entire firm on high alert.”
“I know,” I pressed. “But Moretti’s money. Julian. What have you found?”
Another pause, heavier this time. “He’s very thorough, Marcus. Julian. It’s… intricate. Every transfer has your electronic signature. Every shell account looks like it was initiated by you.”
“But you know it wasn’t me, don’t you, Ray?”
His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “I’m just reconciling numbers, Marcus. But the discrepancies… they’re screaming. Accounts opened too fast, funds moved too aggressively for your usual patterns.”
“Has anyone else looked at these accounts?” I asked, my heart pounding. “Moretti’s people? Has Julian been in contact with them?”
Ray hesitated. “There have been… inquiries. Not official. More… unsettling. Some of Moretti’s associates have been asking questions. About the missing twenty-two million. They seem to think…”
He trailed off, unwilling to voice the accusation.
“They think I stole it,” I finished for him.
“Julian has been very… persuasive,” Ray admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “He’s given them a full accounting. With your signatures, your access logs. He’s made it look like you systematically defrauded them, then tried to cover it up by sabotaging the merger.”
The cold certainty hit me. Julian hadn’t just framed me; he had actively convinced Moretti’s syndicate that I was the thief. The hidden audio channel, the fabricated paper trail, the constant stream of legal filings against me – it was all designed to corroborate Julian’s narrative.
“So, they’ve issued a death mark,” I said, stating the horrifying truth.
Another long, agonizing silence from Ray. Then, a single, strained word. “Yes.”
“And if I go to the police now, what happens?” I asked, picturing the slow grind of legal proceedings.
“They’ll investigate,” Ray said, sounding defeated. “For months. Maybe years. Moretti doesn’t wait for legal process, Marcus. He works on his own timeline.”
The phone went dead. Ray had hung up, too afraid to say more.
I slumped back in my chair in Leo’s shop. Julian had played every angle. He had tied me up in the legal system, ensuring I couldn’t use law enforcement. And he had sicced the criminal underworld on me, ensuring I wouldn’t have time to use any other option.
The police would be a death sentence, a slow, agonizing wait for Moretti’s enforcers. My only path to justice, to clearing Sarah’s name, was now outside the law entirely.
I looked at the stack of evidence: the DNA report, the forged ledgers, Leo’s audio analysis. It was all so damning against Julian. But to the world, to the authorities, it was just the desperate fabrications of a disgraced, grieving father.
My options had narrowed to a single, dangerous alternative. I had to face Moretti myself. And I had to do it before Julian’s plan for my “removal” became a permanent reality.
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