The Friend with the Keys
Chapter 06 - The Friend with the Keys
Nick Arden was the person Luca called when a meeting ran late or an investor lost patience. He knew the passwords, the bank officers and the quiet legal names of the family's businesses. When Elena died, Nick had organized the funeral so Luca could spend three days sitting beside Sophie's bed. He had brought Rosa groceries during her recovery from surgery. Betrayal seemed too small a word for what Luca felt looking at the bank photograph.
Yet Bell was careful. "The camera proves he went into the bank. It does not prove he knew what was in the packet."
Luca asked whether she wanted him to invite Nick to the house. She said no. "You are not running this investigation. You're a witness who may also have signed relevant papers. Remember the distinction."
Sophie overheard part of the discussion about Nick and asked whether her father's best friend would go to jail. Luca told her he did not know. "But he came to my birthdays," she protested. "He taught me to ride my bike." Luca said that those memories were real, too. He didn't want her to erase them because the man had done something wrong. They stood at the kitchen sink while he explained the difference between keeping a good memory and letting someone escape responsibility. Sophie found this explanation unsatisfactory, which Luca privately considered a sign that he'd finally given her a truthful one.
Nick came anyway the next morning. He had noticed that access to several trust accounts was suspended and wanted to know why. Luca met him on the back terrace, where rain dotted the stone and Rosa's rosemary bushes smelled sharp and wet.
"You could have called," Nick said.
"So could you. About the Waverly sale."
Nick's expression did not change. "I thought Vanessa was handling it with counsel."
"You knew her before I did."
"Everybody in our business knows everybody."
"That's not an answer."
Nick looked toward the house. "You want to believe this started with her because then you can throw her out and feel clean. It didn't. Your father made commitments. Victor kept them alive. I was hired to manage the consequences."
"Did you take money?"
Nick held his gaze. "Yes. Not the way you think."
He explained that the Moretti property group had carried hidden liabilities from Carlo's era. Nick had used questionable transfers as collateral in negotiations meant to prevent the business from collapsing. He claimed he had been trying to save employees' jobs. The story had the tidy moral shape of a man who'd practiced it in front of a mirror.
"You could have told me," Luca said.
"You were busy spending money and being a legend. The first time I tried, you said, 'Fix it.' So I did."
Luca felt the force of that. He had said those words. He had probably said them a hundred times. It did not excuse what Nick had done, but it placed Luca squarely inside the story he wanted to observe from a safe distance.
Marian arranged for independent accountants to review the companies. She also warned Luca that moving money impulsively would make restitution harder, not easier. "Do not start writing checks because you're ashamed. We need an accurate accounting."
Rosa, meanwhile, did something simpler. She went to Waverly House and announced a public meeting. She told the residents that there had been forged documents and that she had failed to protect them years before. She apologized without explaining her fear, though afterward it left her trembling. A woman in the second row asked why they should trust her now.
"You shouldn't on my word," Rosa said. "You'll get copies of everything the lawyers can release, and you'll have your own counsel paid for out of a fund I am establishing. You won't need to ask my permission to question me."
Emma heard the answer from the back of the room. For years she had imagined justice as the day a powerful person admitted her mother had been right. The actual sight of it—a roomful of tired people holding yellow legal pads—was less dramatic, and much more convincing.
After the meeting Sophie found a small envelope tucked under the windshield wiper of Rosa's car. There was no note. Inside lay a photograph of Elena Moretti, taken years earlier, sitting with a little Sophie outside Waverly House. On the reverse someone had written, *Ask what happened to the checks in her name.*
Luca took the photo to Marian. Elena had been a volunteer donor to the center. After her death, annual contributions continued through a memorial account Luca had funded. Nick administered it. A preliminary accounting showed several payments redirected to an educational foundation that no one at Waverly recognized.
Sophie was quiet when she learned. "Mom loved the kids there," she said. "She used to bring me after ballet."
"I remember," Luca said, though he had forgotten most of those visits until she reminded him.
"She said being rich only mattered if you didn't get used to it."
He smiled faintly. "That sounds like her."
The next afternoon Nick's office was empty. His assistant said he had gone to visit his mother in Florida. Bell confirmed he had purchased a plane ticket but had not boarded. Someone found his car at a commuter station, its keys on the driver's seat and a paper cup half full of cold coffee in the holder.
The same afternoon, Luca walked through his company's accounting department without the entourage that usually followed him. Employees sat rigidly at their screens, unsure whether his presence meant someone would be fired. He asked the controller to explain the difference between a restricted charitable gift and an ordinary business expense. She answered cautiously, then reached for a training manual. He listened for half an hour, taking notes on a yellow pad. When he apologized for never asking before, she said nothing, but some of the tension left her shoulders. Luca realized he'd hired capable people and rewarded them for telling him as little as possible. Changing that would take more than a speech.
Rosa urged Luca not to speculate in front of Sophie. Emma brought him a sandwich he didn't eat. He sat at the kitchen counter until nearly midnight, looking at the list of transactions his old friend had approved.
At 11:47 the doorbell rang. A courier handed over a small padded package addressed to Rosa. Inside was a miniature tape recorder and a handwritten note: *June Reed wasn't fired because she knew too much. She was fired because she refused to tell Rosa what she knew about Elena.*
May you like
The recorder held one short message. It was Elena's voice, recorded a year before her death.
"If somebody plays this for Rosa," she said, "please don't let Luca hear it until you know what he signed."
