“Forgive my haste, Judge Woods, but I decided to stop by.” She gestured toward the empty chair. I offered a silent nod, and she sat down. “Giorgia Fognini.”
The biggest businesswoman in the ESG field in Latin America and Canada.
“I see. And what, exactly, brings you here?” I asked, my voice holding a professional neutrality. She handed me a sleek folder. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“I heard that your ex-husband attempted to use your name to close deals with certain organizations that happen to be rivals of mine,” she stated, her tone ice-cold.
“Excuse me?”
“I know you recognize me as the CEO of GStorm,” she continued, leaning back with a sharp presence. “But I am also the Sottocapo of the 'Ndrangheta and its primary representative in the Americas.”
My legal mind momentarily failed to process the scale of that confession.
“It's a formidable cover, isn't it?” she added with a ghost of a smile.
“Without a doubt. I never would have suspected,” I managed to say. “But what is the purpose of these documents?”
“Your ex-husband was brokering deals far beyond his station with Matteo Pagano. Inside, you’ll find logs, dates, and clandestine port arrivals for their shipments.”
“And why are you handing this to me?” I asked, my internal judge taking over.
“Because this is your ticket to the Supreme Court,” she stated. “The authorities believe we are blind to the human trafficking operations. It’s a practice strictly prohibited among organizations linked with the triad.”
“And what, exactly, am I expected to do?”
“Act,” she replied simply. “Ensure that Matteo is found in these locations. Once he is neutralized, we will proceed.”
“And what will your 'organization' want from me after that?”
She offered a small, rigid smile. She was undeniably dangerous—a predator in a high-end shell.
“The same as always,” Giorgia continued. “We want that same invisibility in major tax cases. Beyond that, we play by the rules to make life easier for everyone.”
“It was a pleasure, Ms. Fognini,” I replied, extending my hand.
She offered a slow smile before taking my hand and bringing it to her lips.
“The pleasure was mine, Ms. Woods,” she murmured. “Kelsey was very lucky. I wouldn't have let you get away either, even if it took her so many years.”
“Me and her? I don't understand what you mean,” I stammered, my composure finally cracking.
“Of course you do,” Giorgia countered, her eyes gleaming. “And rest assured, that is a secret, not something to be used for blackmail.”
I simply nodded, waiting for her to exit so I could finally unravel. The moment the door closed, I poured myself two fingers of whiskey. Then two more.
I returned home with my head pounding. As I combed through the documents Giorgia left behind, the horror set in: Peter had forged my signature to authorize a ship to dock outside the official port and had filed a legal pardon for one of his most dubious clients.
“Hell!” I roared, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles.
I remained in a self-imposed silence until the next morning. Before boarding my flight to New York, I sent a brief message to Kels letting her know I was en route. She replied instantly: she was already on her jet, ready for our reunion.
Even if it took her so many years.
That phrase was etched into my brain—a riddle that demanded a face-to-face answer.
#38
“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you?Do you get déjà vu?" - Olivia Rodrigo
