Page 102

ALEXEI

“I found something.”

Sasha's voice cuts through the background chatter of the video conference, immediately commanding everyone's attention.

I look up from the financial reports spread across my desk. Over the secure video connection, Roman straightens in his chair in his New York office. Viktor, standing near the door with one arm still secured in a sling, turns his attention toward Sasha as she steps closer to the conference table with a tablet tucked beneath one arm.

She places a file on the polished wood before pulling several documents onto the large screen mounted on the wall.

“One of Enzo DeLuca's shell companies routes money through a charitable foundation in New York,” she explains. “I kept seeing the same organization appear while tracing corporate filings.”

She enlarges the document.

The Bennett Foundation.

An uneasy silence fills the office.

Roman and I react at the same time.

“Bennett?” Roman asks sharply.

“Clara's surname,” I answer.

Sasha nods once. “Exactly.”

I stare at the screen.

Clara Bennett Agapov.

The name she used for years before our marriage. The name she claimed she chose after leaving her family behind.

Roman's expression hardens. “Clara said she picked that name herself.”

“She did,” I say automatically.

Or at least, that’s what I’ve always believed.

Sasha changes the image on the screen.

An elegant woman in her early thirties looks back at us from a photograph taken nearly three decades ago. Dark hair swept away from her face. Pearls at her throat. Refined. Wealthy.

Roman swears softly in Russian.

I rise slowly from my chair.

The woman in the photograph is older than the one Roman's investigators captured meeting privately with Enzo, but there’s no mistaking her. Time has added silver to her hair and fine lines around her eyes, yet I recognize her immediately.

Isabella Moretti.

The same eyes. The same sharp bone structure. The same carefully controlled composure.

Sasha folds her hands in front of her. “Facial comparison places it above ninety-one percent.”

Roman studies the image for several seconds. “Who exactly is she?”

“We're still trying to answer that,” Sasha admits. “The foundation receives substantial donations from a private trust she controls, but the ownership trail disappears behind several layers of shell companies and private holdings. She's spent a great deal of money ensuring she remains difficult to trace.”

I continue staring at the woman.