The CFO Who Learned From the Family
Chapter 06 - The CFO Who Learned From the Family
Sebastian Voss did not invent the vendor system.
He inherited it.
That was his defense.
It was also partly true.
Roman’s father, Antonio Caruso, had used maintenance companies to move illicit cash through hotels and restaurants for decades.
Repairs were easy to inflate.
Linens disappeared.
Liquor broke.
Equipment required emergency replacement.
Numbers could be made to breathe.
When Roman took control at thirty-four, he shut down the most obvious cash laundering.
Not all.
He kept three vendor companies operating because they also performed legitimate work and because closing them abruptly would expose old crimes.
That was the reason he gave.
There was another.
They were useful.
Roman admitted it to Helen.
“For what?”
“Off-book security.”
“Legal?”
“No.”
“Political payments?”
“Some.”
“Protection collections?”
“Occasionally.”
Helen looked at him.
“So when you say you cleaned the hospitality business—”
“I cleaned part of it.”
“Publicly?”
“Yes.”
“Privately?”
“I left tools.”
There.
Voss had learned where the tools were.
Enzo had kept old cash routes alive.
Voss used both.
Not one mastermind.
A structure with several men each telling themselves they were only preserving what already existed.
Naen hated that more.
A monster would have been simpler.
She spent her afternoon carrying plates to people celebrating mergers.
At table nine, a woman complained her sole tasted “anxious.”
Naen almost said fish could not receive therapy.
She did not.
Tips.
At ten, Claire sat beside her in the staff room.
“You okay?”
“Why does everyone ask that?”
“Because you look like you want to stab the butter.”
Naen laughed.
“Fine.”
Claire slid a brochure across.
City Community College.
Evening hospitality operations program.
“You asked me last year.”
Naen stared.
“I was pregnant with bills last year.”
“You are still pregnant with bills.”
“True.”
“Apply.”
Naen looked at tuition.
Then schedule.
Two nights.
One online class.
Leo’s kindergarten pickup could maybe work with Mrs. Alvarez.
Maybe.
“What if the lawsuit settles?”
Claire asked.
“What about it?”
“You could use some.”
Naen’s face tightened.
“I don’t want Eli’s death paying for my life.”
Claire looked at her.
“That is exactly the kind of thing grief says that sounds noble and makes no practical sense.”
Naen stared.
Claire shrugged.
“Money can’t redeem anything. It can still pay tuition.”
That stayed.
Meanwhile Roman’s criminal review expanded.
Federal prosecutors cared about vendor fraud.
State prosecutors cared about labor and bribery.
Roman’s private counsel cared about keeping him from saying unnecessary things.
He failed occasionally.
At one proffer session, a prosecutor asked:
“Did you know Enzo Caruso continued illegal lending?”
“Yes.”
“Did you stop him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He had influence over older crews.”
“That is not why.”
Roman took time.
“Because removing him would have caused conflict I didn’t want.”
“So you tolerated crime for stability.”
“Yes.”
Good.
“Did you profit?”
“Indirectly.”
“How?”
“His crews protected some Caruso businesses.”
“From what?”
“Other crews.”
“Protection from a threat partly created by your own network.”
Roman looked at the table.
“Yes.”
The prosecutor wrote something.
No dramatic gasp.
Consequences are often pen scratches.
Then David Kesler asked to cooperate.
Not because he had become good.
Because his lawyer showed him potential exposure for wage theft, obstruction, and cash transfer.
David provided records.
Dates.
Names.
Photos.
One surprising thing.
He had kept copies of every cash envelope log for two years.
“Why?” investigators asked.
“Insurance.”
“Against who?”
“Everyone.”
Of course.
David was cruel.
Status-obsessed.
A thief from his own servers.
Also not stupid.
His copies proved Enzo’s network used Laura.
They also proved Voss’s people diverted some cash to a vendor Roman did not know existed.
And they proved David had not been paid to arrange Roman’s attack.
He had only been told afterward to remove witnesses.
“Only.”
The word does terrible work.
Naen was asked to give a statement.
She did.
Not at Roman’s office.
Police station.
Lawyer present.
She described the alley.
The timing.
David’s firing.
The call threat.
No embellishment.
Then the detective asked:
“Did Mr. Caruso ever pressure you to alter your statement?”
“No.”
“Offer money?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
“Do you have a personal relationship?”
Naen paused.
“No.”
True.
“Do you want one?”
Her lawyer objected.
Good.
Not relevant.
Outside, Roman was waiting in a black sedan across the street.
Naen saw it.
He did not approach.
That was new.
She called him.
“You’re terrible at not hovering.”
“I’m across the street.”
“Exactly.”
“I wanted to know you were safe.”
“Police station.”
“Yes.”
“Go home.”
Silence.
Then:
“Okay.”
The sedan left.
Naen stood on the sidewalk watching.
Her lawyer said:
“He listens.”
“Sometimes.”
“Dangerous trait in a rich man. You might get optimistic.”
Naen laughed.
“No.”
That night Leo asked:
“Who’s Roman?”
Naen froze.
“Why?”
“You said his name.”
“When?”
“Sleeping.”
Wonderful.
“He’s someone I know.”
“Friend?”
“No.”
“Enemy?”
“Leo.”
“What?”
Five-year-olds prefer categories.
Naen sat beside him.
“Complicated.”
He thought.
“Like fractions?”
“Worse.”
Leo nodded solemnly.
Then returned to dinosaurs.
Two weeks later, investigators uncovered something more painful than fraud.
Voss had not chosen North River maintenance vendors randomly.
He had used the same vendor company that had inspected Eli’s platform.
That company belonged secretly to Enzo’s brother-in-law.
It had recommended repair.
Then profited from delaying it through emergency work after the collapse.
Roman’s family had made money before and after Eli died.
Roman did not know that part.
Enzo did.
Voss did.
May you like
And one old email suggested David Kesler may have known the vendor was connected years before he ever met Naen.
The restaurant manager who fired her might have been standing on the edge of Eli’s story long before the rainy night that brought Roman into hers.
