Chapter 3 - The Inside Job
The name struck me with the force of a physical blow.
Celeste.
My pregnant mistress.
The timid, twenty-seven-year-old foundation coordinator who had looked like a frightened rabbit when Eleanor confronted her.
I left the bank in a blind fury, ignoring the terrified manager calling after me.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Celeste's number.
It rang four times before going straight to voicemail.
I called the security detail stationed at my Upper East Side mansion.
"Where is Celeste?" I barked the moment the guard answered.
"She left the house three hours ago, sir," the guard reported.
"She said you authorized a shopping trip, and she took the company town car."
"Track the car," I ordered, my voice dangerously low.
"The GPS tracker was disabled an hour ago, Mr. Moretti," the guard admitted nervously.
I ended the call and smashed the phone against the brick wall of the bank.
Everything I believed about the last twenty-four hours was a complete lie.
Celeste wasn't a naive girl caught in a domestic dispute.
She was a deeply embedded operative working for the cartel, planted inside my foundation to get close to me.
She had deliberately orchestrated the confrontation with Eleanor to push my wife out of the house.
Celeste wanted Eleanor's keys, and she knew I would be too distracted by the dramatic breakup to notice her stealing the brass key from Eleanor's coat.
The cartel hadn't intercepted Eleanor in the snow.
They had lied to me to cover Celeste's tracks while she emptied the safe deposit box.
I needed to find Celeste before she delivered the ledgers to the cartel bosses.
I walked to a nearby payphone and dialed a number I only used in absolute emergencies.
"I need a trace on a ghost phone," I told the hacker on the other end.
I gave him Celeste's number, knowing she would likely throw the phone away, but hoping she was amateur enough to keep it turned on for a few more hours.
"Got a ping," the hacker replied ten minutes later.
"She's at the private aviation terminal in Teterboro, New Jersey."
She was fleeing the state with the ledgers.
I hailed a taxi, bribing the driver with a thousand dollars in cash to break every speed limit getting me to Teterboro.
When we arrived at the private terminal, I bypassed security entirely, walking onto the tarmac with the authority of a man who owned the airspace.
A sleek Gulfstream jet was fueling up near the end of the runway.
I saw Celeste walking up the mobile staircase, clutching a thick leather briefcase tightly against her chest.
"Celeste!" I shouted over the roar of the jet engines.
She froze on the stairs and slowly turned around.
She didn't look frightened anymore.
She looked remarkably calm, her expensive white coat blowing in the bitter winter wind.
I rushed up the stairs, grabbing her arm and ripping the briefcase from her grasp.
"You really thought you could steal my empire and just fly away?" I snarled.
Celeste didn't flinch. She simply offered a sad, pitying smile.
"I didn't steal your empire, Lucian," she said softly.
"I was just following the instructions I was paid to execute."
I popped the clasps on the briefcase, expecting to see the damning ledgers.
Instead, the briefcase was completely empty, containing nothing but a single, handwritten note.
I recognized the elegant, precise handwriting immediately.
May you like
It was Eleanor's.
"If you are reading this, Lucian, you are exactly where I need you to be."
