Chapter 3 - Three Hundred Seventeen Days
Luca checked the timestamp and asked Mrs. Alvarez to save the link. A post prepared in advance meant someone had expected a scene.
Michael took me to the quiet breakfast room while his brother spoke to security. The Morettis had paid Dad's health insurance after illness ended his driving work. I'd been grateful. Now gratitude felt like a debt I hadn't agreed to owe.
"I need to tell you something," Michael said.
He pulled the graduation photo from his phone case. Luca, younger and thinner, had his arm around Michael's shoulders. Their mother stood between them.
"When I was drinking, Luca never lied and said I was fine," Michael told me. "He locked me out of the company accounts. He made me get help. But he didn't throw me out of the family."
"Then don't let Vanessa turn one glass into a verdict."
He nodded, but his eyes stayed on the floor. "A week ago I questioned the bills for Harbor Steps. That's our recovery housing project. A contractor charged us for beds we never ordered. I asked our finance director to freeze payment. Vanessa told me I was being paranoid."
"What does that have to do with a toast?"
"Our board votes Thursday on whether I'm still fit to lead the project. If someone filmed me drinking at Luca's engagement dinner, I'd spend the meeting defending myself instead of the bills."
I looked through the breakfast-room door. Luca had an empire that moved freight, owned property, and carried the long shadow of his father's criminal connections. Harbor Steps was one of the few things Michael controlled without permission from those old men.
"Did you save the bills?" I asked.
"Copies. I gave them to the accountant."
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His phone vibrated. He showed me an email from the project's bookkeeper: MICHAEL, PLEASE CALL. THE ACCOUNTANT WHO RECEIVED YOUR COPIES WAS FIRED TODAY.
Michael read it again. "They didn't wait for the vote."
