The chairman called the session to order. Dante placed a single packet before each member. It contained a preservation notice, a summary from the independent accountants identifying major unanswered questions, and copies of original trust documents that the beneficiaries had authorized counsel to share. It did not contain personal medical details or anything Nell's families had asked to keep private.
Carmine pushed the packet away. “This is a distraction from today's agenda.”
“Today's agenda is whether I should control assets I have not reviewed honestly,” Dante said. “I have signed things I should have questioned. I will not ask the room to ignore that. But I will also not allow those signatures to be used as an excuse to destroy evidence.”
The other partners exchanged glances. Some had expected threats. Others had hoped for a quiet deal.
Carmine leaned forward. “You seem to be forgetting what sort of business this is.”
“No,” Dante said. “I am remembering who pays when we pretend it has no consequences.”
Then he proposed three resolutions: halt all transfers involving the disputed trust holdings, permit a genuinely independent audit, and place his own operating authority under temporary oversight while those reviews continued. He offered to step away from executive control of the affected subsidiaries, provided the records were preserved and the residents were not evicted during the review.
The partners listened. One asked what would happen if investors fled. Dante replied that hidden liabilities were not reduced by refusing to calculate them. Another demanded to know why the company should accept an audit that might identify criminal exposure. Livia said the company had obligations whether they liked them or not.
Carmine smiled. “And what does the waitress think?”
Dante's face hardened. “She isn't here, and her profession isn't relevant to this vote.”
“She used to be a professor, didn't she? Until she falsified her research.”
“An allegation under review,” Livia corrected.
Carmine ignored her. “She wants your ten million. She wants a platform. She's manipulating you.”
Dante looked at the men seated around him. “My father made a mistake when he assumed an expert's personal life mattered more than her evidence. I've made the same mistake with other people. We will not repeat it today.”
The chairman asked for a recess. By then the first two resolutions had passed, narrowly. The third—temporary control over Dante's operations—was delayed pending legal review. Carmine lost authority to initiate trust-property transfers during the audit. He did not lose his title. It was less dramatic than the downfall Dante had once imagined and far more useful.
When he left the building, cameras waited at the curb.
Somebody had leaked the story.
Reporters shouted questions about missing relief payments and a former Cambridge professor being paid millions to work for a notorious businessman. One thrust a photograph of Selene toward him.
“Is this the woman advising you?”
Dante stopped. Luca made a move to guide him into the car. Dante held up a hand.
“Her work is independently contracted and subject to verification,” he told the reporter. “There is an audit of historical trust assets. The beneficiaries are represented. Further questions should go to counsel.”
“Did your father steal from the dockworkers?”
“I'm not going to speculate about what an investigation may establish.”
It wasn't a perfect answer. Selene would have hated the rehearsed cadence. But it was honest enough to matter.
At the café, she watched the footage on her phone. The headline that accompanied it was much worse: DISGRACED SCHOLAR AT CENTER OF MOB KING'S $10M MYSTERY.
Mara turned off the sound. “Don't read the comments.”
“I'm not fourteen.”
“Then you should have more sense than a fourteen-year-old.”