Chapter 4: What Marcus Had Already Moved
The auditor's name was Petra Voss.
She arrived at seven in the morning with two associates, a laptop case, and the expression of someone who had seen worse and expected to see it again.
Domenico met her in the front hall before the household staff arrived.
"The Caretti account first," he said.
"Then anything connected to it."
"Connected how?"
"That's what I need you to tell me."
She nodded and followed him to the study.
By eight-fifteen, she looked up from her screen.
"The account isn't dormant," she said.
Domenico set down his coffee.
"Say that again."
"It was marked dormant in the internal records.
But the actual account has had activity.
Consistent, structured activity." She turned the laptop to face him.
"Small transfers.
Never more than forty thousand at a time.
Always to a numbered intermediary account.
Nineteen transfers over thirty-one months."
Domenico looked at the screen.
The numbers were clean, evenly spaced, almost rhythmic.
"Total?" he said.
"Seven hundred and twelve thousand dollars."
He sat back.
"Who authorized the transfers?"
Petra pointed to a column on the screen.
"The authorization code is registered to a user with senior financial access.
The login ID is M-Reinholt-Admin."
Marcus Reinholt.
"He marked the account dormant in the internal dashboard," Petra continued.
"Anyone reviewing the internal summary would see a zero balance and no activity.
But the actual bank records tell a different story.
He was counting on no one pulling the originals."
"Can you trace where the money went?"
"The intermediary account is registered in Cyprus.
That's going to take longer.
But the transfers themselves are documented.
The authorization trail is clean." She paused.
"This is enough to take to a prosecutor, Mr.
Ferrante.
You don't need the destination to prove the origin."
Domenico stood and walked to the window.
The grounds were quiet.
Frost on the grass.
The catering company's van was still parked near the east gate from the night before.
"How long has Marcus been my financial director?" Petra asked.
"Eleven years."
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Domenico turned from the window.
"I want everything documented and secured before he arrives.
He said he'd bring records by nine."
"He won't bring the real ones."
"I know."
At eight fifty-two, Marcus arrived.
He walked into the front hall carrying a leather folder, dressed as though last night had not happened.
He smiled at the staff member who opened the door and asked for coffee.
Domenico met him in the hallway before he reached the study.
"The auditors are already here," Domenico said.
Marcus stopped.
The leather folder stayed under his arm.
"Auditors."
"Petra Voss.
You may know the name."
A pause.
"I've heard of her."
"She's been here since seven.
She found the Caretti transfers."
Marcus's jaw moved slightly.
He looked past Domenico toward the study door, then back.
"Those transfers were approved," he said.
"There's documentation."
"Show me."
Marcus opened the leather folder and produced a set of papers.
Domenico took them without looking at them and handed them through the study door to Petra.
She reviewed them for forty seconds.
"These approval signatures are dated six weeks after the first transfer," she said from inside the room.
"And the signatory code doesn't match the account authorization trail."
Marcus said nothing.
"They're fabricated," Petra said simply.
Domenico looked at Marcus.
"I want your access cards, your firm credentials, and your keys to this property," Domenico said.
"Now."
"You're making a mistake," Marcus said.
His voice was still level, but something underneath it had shifted.
"Ruby fed you something last night and you're reacting without thinking.
That's exactly what she wanted."
"Ruby left this house because someone told her to pack her bags and wait.
Someone who knew exactly how last night was going to end." Domenico stepped closer.
"Was that you, or was that Valentina?"
Marcus's eyes moved.
Just slightly.
Toward the staircase.
May you like
Valentina was standing at the top of it.
She had been there long enough to hear.
