Chapter 7 – The Money That Disappeared

“I never agreed to give up my home.”

Daniel’s voice was steady, but his hands were shaking.

Ms. Ortiz looked at him over the top of her folder.

“I need you to understand something. An allegation does not make a fact. We’re asking questions because some of the information we’ve received contradicts what we already know.”

Daniel leaned back.

“Then why postpone the hearing?”

“Because the court needs an accurate account of the housing arrangement before the adoption is finalized. We cannot simply ignore a reported change in residence.”

She paused.

“And because I wanted to speak with you personally before anyone made another decision based on secondhand information.”

Luca nodded.

“That’s reasonable.”

Daniel looked at his father.

“I don’t feel particularly reasonable right now.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Ms. Ortiz turned back to Daniel.

“Did Ms. Bellini offer you another residence?”

“Yes. An apartment on the north side.”

“Did you accept it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Daniel glanced toward the living room.

Noah was drawing something on a sheet of paper, his tongue pressed against his upper lip in concentration.

“Because his school is here. His doctor is nearby. Mrs. Keating knows his routines. And because it took him almost a year to stop asking whether he was allowed to put pictures on his bedroom wall.”

Ms. Ortiz waited.

Daniel continued.

“When he first came to me, he wouldn’t unpack his clothes. He said it was easier to leave them in the suitcase.”

I remembered those months.

Daniel had once asked me how to remove old adhesive from a bedroom wall without damaging the paint.

Noah wanted to put up a drawing he’d made at school, but he was afraid he’d get in trouble.

Daniel had bought a whole package of removable hooks.

Then he’d told Noah the wall belonged to him.

Now people were planning to tear that same room apart.

Daniel looked at Ms. Ortiz.

“I chose that cottage because it was quiet. Because I could afford it. Because my son needed somewhere that didn’t feel temporary.”

She closed her folder.

“That’s the sort of information I needed to hear.”

Luca spoke.

“What happens next?”

“Daniel submits confirmation of his work arrangements. We verify the tenancy agreement and document the actual status of the property. I’ll also speak privately with Noah, as I’ve done during previous visits.”

Daniel nodded.

“And the hearing?”

“I can’t promise the original date. But a postponement isn’t a rejection.”

He breathed out slowly.

She gathered her belongings.

“Mr. Moretti, I suggest you settle the questions about who has authority over this house. In writing.”

Luca stood.

“I intend to.”

After she left, Noah came into the kitchen carrying his drawing.

It showed a blue house with a crooked chimney and three people standing outside.

One of them had enormous black shoes.

“That’s you, Grandpa,” Noah explained.

Luca laughed softly.

“Good heavens. I need smaller shoes.”

“No. You have big feet.”

“Fair point.”

Daniel smiled.

But when Noah went back to the living room, the smile vanished.

“Dad, I want Vanessa kept away from this house.”

Luca nodded immediately.

“Agreed.”

“And I don’t want anyone from the estate coming here without checking with me first.”

“You’ll have your own keys and control over access.”

Daniel studied him.

“You understand why I’m asking?”

Luca looked toward the drawing.

“I do now.”

That afternoon, we returned to the household office to examine the Whitcomb agreement.

Luca didn’t ask Vanessa to join us.

He wanted to understand the records before confronting her again.

I laid out the invoices while Daniel compared the renovation schedule with the occupancy notice.

The more closely we looked, the less the arrangement resembled ordinary wedding planning.

Whitcomb Heritage Events had been offered exclusive use of part of the estate for a series of private functions.

Cedar Cottage was listed as a preparation suite and administrative office.

The agreement was conditional on the owner’s approval, but it represented that the cottage would be vacant and available for conversion.

There was a reservation payment of sixty-eight thousand dollars.

Daniel read the description twice.

“Why would anyone pay that much before the contract was final?”

Luca tapped the page.

“Because whoever arranged this convinced them the approval was only a formality.”

I turned to the next invoice.

“Sir, there’s a discrepancy.”

“What kind?”

“The payment wasn’t deposited into the estate account.”

Luca frowned.

“Where did it go?”

“The vendor’s remittance advice lists Bellini Projects.”

Daniel looked at his father.

“Vanessa has a company?”

Luca nodded.

“She ran an events consultancy before we met. I knew she still handled occasional projects.”

“Did you know she was selling access to your property?”

“No.”

I examined the attached receipt.

Bellini Projects was listed as the coordinating contractor, with Vanessa as its sole authorized representative.

The reservation payment had been directed to her company’s operating account.

It wasn’t necessarily unlawful to receive a provisional fee as an event coordinator.

But the agreement described property access she had no authority to guarantee.

And it relied on Cedar Cottage becoming vacant.

Luca sat down slowly.

“Sixty-eight thousand dollars,” he repeated.

Daniel looked toward the doorway.

“Does that explain why she was so determined to move us?”

“Part of it,” Luca said.

“What’s the other part?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I continued sorting the receipts.

There should have been a corresponding project ledger showing where the money had been allocated.

Vanessa was meticulous about accounting. She insisted on matching invoices with bank references before approving even modest household expenses.

I found the ledger in a thinner folder marked Private Events.

The reservation payment was recorded.

So was a transfer made the following morning.

I stared at the figure.

It matched exactly.

“Mr. Moretti?”

He looked over.

I handed him the page.

The entire advance had been transferred out of Bellini Projects’ account less than twenty-four hours after it arrived.

There was no matching vendor invoice.

No renovation expense.

No payment to a wedding planner.

Only a private disbursement reference.

Luca studied it.

Then he looked toward Daniel.

“Whatever Vanessa needed this cottage for, son, it wasn’t just our wedding. The sixty-eight thousand dollars is already gone.”

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