Chapter 6: The Name Behind the Company
The name on the beneficiary record was my mother’s.
For three full seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I stared at the screen while the cursor blinked beside a transfer dated four years earlier.
*Beneficiary: Isabella Rossi Holdings LLC.*
My mother had been dead for eleven years.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“That’s Mom.””
Dominic Rossi didn't move.
He simply leaned closer to the monitor.
“No,” he said quietly.
“It isn't.””
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?””
He pointed to the registration number beneath the beneficiary name.
“That company was incorporated eighteen months after your mother died.””
My stomach dropped.
Dad opened another document.
The registered agent was a corporate services firm in Delaware.
The mailing address was a private mailbox.
The manager was listed as *B. Hayes*.
I pushed back from the desk.
“Brandon.””
Dad nodded.
“Exactly.””
My hands went cold.
“But why use Mom’s name?””
“To make you hesitate when the records were eventually found,” Dad said.
“Or to make investigators assume it was a family entity.””
He clicked another file.
A spreadsheet appeared.
Five years of transfers.
Small at first.
$18,500.
$24,000.
$31,200.
Then larger.
$67,000.
$94,000.
$125,000.
The payments were disguised as vendor expenses, project advances, furniture deposits, architectural consulting fees.
Nearly two million dollars in total.
All from Rossi Design Group.
All eventually landing in accounts connected to the same shell company.
My throat tightened.
“I didn't authorize any of these.””
“I know.””
“I would remember.””
“I know that too.””
Dad's voice was calm.
That somehow frightened me more.
I looked at the timestamps.
“Who approved them?””
Dad highlighted a column.
Every transaction had been authorized electronically.
By someone with access to my company's financial portal.
*Brandon Hayes.*
I covered my mouth.
“He had access because he handled some vendor payments.””
“For the company?””
“Yes.””
“How long?””
“Since 2020.””
Dad leaned back.
“Then we aren't looking at a husband stealing from his wife.””
His eyes met mine.
“We're looking at an employee stealing from a company.””
The distinction hit me like a hammer.
Rossi Design Group wasn't just my business.
It was my employees' livelihoods.
Their health insurance.
Their mortgages.
Their children's college funds.
Their futures.
I stood abruptly.
“We need to call the bank.””
“We already did.””
I froze.
“You did?””
“At 4:17 this afternoon.””
“What did you tell them?””
“That your company was potentially compromised.””
“And?””
“They froze outbound wires.””
I stared at him.
“You did all that without telling me?””
Dad's expression softened.
“I needed you to stop thinking like Brandon's ex-wife and start thinking like the owner of a company.””
That sentence stayed with me.
For nine years, Brandon had convinced me that every problem in my life was somehow a relationship problem.
His anger.
His spending.
His disappearances.
His lies.
His excuses.
I had treated them like pieces of a broken marriage.
But now I was beginning to understand.
Some of those pieces belonged to a much larger machine.
My phone buzzed.
A text from my chief financial officer, Maya Chen.
*Maya:* Elena, urgent. The bank called me about an attempted wire.
Another message arrived.
*Maya:* $380,000 to Isabella Rossi Holdings.
I looked at Dad.
“That transfer was attempted tonight?””
“Yes.””
“After the accounts were frozen?””
Dad nodded.
“Someone is still trying to move money.””
My phone rang.
Maya.
I answered.
“Maya?””
“Where are you?””
“With my father.””
“Good. Don't come into the office alone.””
My heart started pounding.
“Why?””
There was a pause.
“Because someone accessed the executive floor twenty minutes ago.””
“Who?””
“We don't know.””
Dad stood.
“Put her on speaker.””
I did.
Maya continued.
“Security footage shows a man entering through the private elevator.””
“Did you identify him?””
“No. He was wearing a cap and a mask.””
Dad asked, “What did he access?””
“The finance office.””
I looked at Dad.
“Anything missing?””
“We're checking.””
Then Maya's voice changed.
“Elena…”
“What?””
“The safe is open.””
Dad's face hardened.
“What safe?””
“The one in your office.””
My blood ran cold.
“What was inside?””
“Corporate seals. Backup authorization documents. And the emergency access token for the company's investment account.””
Silence.
Dad slowly picked up his coat.
“Call the police,” he said.
I swallowed.
“Maya, lock the building down.””
“I already did.””
Then she whispered something that made my knees weaken.
“There’s one more thing.””
“What?””
“The security camera caught the man's face for half a second.””
May you like
Dad looked at me.
Maya said, “Elena, it was Brandon.””
