The Name On The Withdrawal Slip

The wineglass in Vanessa’s hand slipped.

It shattered against the hardwood floor.

Nobody jumped. Nobody even blinked.

Michael Moretti stepped into the dining room.

He looked older, tired, his hair completely silver, but his eyes were sharp.

“You’ve been dead for fifteen years,” Richard Bellini choked out, his face turning a sickening shade of gray.

“I had to die, Richard,” Michael said calmly, walking toward the head of the table.

“It was the only way you would stop looking for the girl.”

Luca bypassed the table entirely.

He crossed the room in three strides and threw his arms around the older man.

For a moment, the wealthy, stoic Luca Moretti looked exactly like a ten-year-old boy.

Michael held his son tightly, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry.”

“You let me bury an empty casket?” Luca asked, pulling back, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“There was no casket, Luca. Only ashes. And they weren’t mine.”

Michael looked at June.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on him, June.”

June smiled warmly.

“He grew up fine, Michael. A little stubborn, but fine.”

I stood paralyzed.

The man who had saved my life. The man who had ruined my mother’s life to protect me.

He was standing right in front of me.

Michael finally turned his gaze to me.

His expression softened completely.

“Emma.”

He walked over to me.

I stepped back instinctively.

“Don’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“You let my mother destroy herself. She’s in a nursing home because she couldn’t afford proper medical care for a stroke she had while working her third job.”

Michael’s face fell.

“I know. And I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life. But if Richard had found you, you wouldn’t be working as a maid today. You’d be buried next to your real father.”

He reached into his leather jacket.

He pulled out a thick, legal-sized envelope.

He held it out to me.

“What is this?” I asked, refusing to take it.

“Three days ago, the private investigator Vanessa hired flagged your name in a database,” Michael said.

“My contacts in the city alerted me. I knew the Bellinis were finally closing in.”

Michael looked at Vanessa, who was shrinking back against the wall.

“So I went to the bank. I withdrew the four million. And I bought something to ensure they could never touch you.”

I slowly took the envelope.

I opened the flap.

Inside was a stack of legal documents.

I read the bold print on the first page.

Majority Shareholder Transfer Agreement.

Bellini Enterprises.

I looked up, stunned.

“I didn’t just invest the money in tech stocks,” Michael said, looking directly at Richard Bellini.

“Over the last twenty years, through proxy buyers, I used the four million to quietly purchase fifty-one percent of Bellini Enterprises.”

Richard grabbed his chest, staggering backward into his chair.

“You… you bought my company?”

“No,” Michael said coldly.

He pointed at me.

“She did.”

The room erupted.

Vanessa screamed, rushing to her father.

“This is illegal! You can’t do this!”

“It’s entirely legal, Vanessa,” Michael said. “She is Vincent Bellini’s legal heir. The shares were bought in her name. She owns your company. She owns this house. She owns you.”

I stared at the papers.

I was a billionaire. Overnight.

But as I looked at the signatures on the documents, I noticed something wrong.

There was a second name listed as a co-signer.

A name I didn’t recognize.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice cutting through the shouting.

“Who is Toby Reed?”

Michael froze.

June’s hands gripped her purse tightly.

“Who is Toby Reed?” I repeated, holding up the paper.

Michael looked at Luca, then at me.

His voice dropped to a terrified whisper.