Chapter 4 - The Room Beneath the Ballroom
Lorenzo took Clara through a private corridor while the gala continued above them.
The music sounded distant now.
The ballroom's laughter had become muffled.
They reached an old service staircase.
“Where are we going?” Clara asked.
“The records room.”
“You have one beneath the ballroom?”
“My grandfather built it before the foundation became public.”
Clara followed him downstairs.
At the bottom stood a steel door.
Lorenzo unlocked it.
Inside were old paper ledgers, archived contracts, property records, and boxes covered with years of dust.
Clara moved slowly through the room.
“What are we looking for?”
“Something that disappeared twelve years ago.”
He pointed toward an empty shelf.
“My father kept an original ledger here.”
“What ledger?”
“Construction payments.”
Clara froze.
“Construction?”
“The first phase of Moretti Foundation hospitals.”
Her pulse quickened.
She pulled the audit report from her bag.
One page showed the suspicious companies.
Another showed payments made twelve years earlier.
The company names were different.
But the bank routing pattern was identical.
“This isn't a new fraud,” she whispered.
“No.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“It started before I took control.”
Clara looked at him.
“Then why did you say they used me to get to you?”
“Because whoever is moving this money needs someone to blame when it becomes public.”
“And I'm that person?”
“You're the person who found it.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Both turned.
Footsteps.
Then silence.
Lorenzo moved toward the door.
Clara caught his sleeve.
“Wait.”
She pointed at the floor.
A thin trail of fresh dust crossed the tiles.
Someone had recently entered.
Lorenzo followed it to a small storage cabinet.
Inside was nothing but an old brass key.
Clara picked it up.
A number had been scratched into the metal.
917.
Her stomach tightened.
“Your watch.”
Lorenzo stared at the key.
9:17.
The exact time his watch stopped.
Clara whispered, “Someone wanted you to find this.”
Lorenzo closed his hand around the key.
“No.”
May you like
He looked toward the dark corridor.
“Someone wanted us to think we were supposed to.”
