Chapter 7: What Grace Found
Grace Okonkwo had an office that smelled like strong coffee and printer ink, with three monitors on her desk and a whiteboard behind her covered in names and arrows that I suspected never got fully erased between cases.
She met us the following morning.
She had already been working for sixteen hours.
"Sit down," she said, not looking up from the center monitor.
"Both of you."
We sat.
"Renaldo Caruso," she said.
"Your father's younger brother.
Co-executor of the estate alongside Hargreave and Solt.
He was added to that role eighteen months before your father passed — which is interesting, because your father's original will, filed eleven years ago, named only the firm."
Fabio leaned forward.
"He was added late."
"Eighteen months before death.
When your father was already ill." Grace finally looked up.
"The amendment was filed correctly.
Witnessed.
Notarized.
I'm not saying it was forged.
I'm saying the timing is worth noting."
"What about the account?
The one Vivienne used?"
Grace turned to the second monitor.
"The account was opened twenty-two years ago.
Co-signed by a Renaldo Caruso.
The address listed was a property your father owned — a rental unit in Westfield.
Ren had a key.
He managed the property."
"So he used Dad's own address to help Vivienne hide money from Dad."
"That's what the paperwork suggests." Grace pulled a printed sheet from a tray and slid it across the desk.
"The account was active for four years, not three.
Your father's letter said three.
Either he miscounted, or he only discovered three years' worth."
Fabio looked at the sheet.
"What happened to the account after Vivienne left?"
"It stayed open for another fourteen months.
Small deposits.
Then it was closed and the balance transferred." She paused.
"To a second account.
Also co-signed by Ren.
That account is still open."
The room was very quiet.
"How much?" Fabio asked.
Grace told him.
He sat back in his chair.
"That's not household money," he said.
"No," Grace said.
"It's not."
I looked at the number on the sheet.
It was the kind of number that didn't come from skimming a grocery budget.
It was the kind of number that came from years of deliberate, careful, patient work.
"She didn't just take what she felt entitled to," I said.
"No," Grace said.
"And she didn't do it alone."
Fabio stood up.
He walked to the window.
He stood there with his back to us, looking out at the street below.
"Ren came to the wedding," he said.
"I know," I said.
"He gave a toast.
He said—" Fabio stopped.
"He said Dad would have been so proud."
Nobody spoke.
Fabio turned around.
His face had settled into something I hadn't seen before.
Not anger.
Something quieter and more permanent than anger.
"I want to know everything," he said to Grace.
"The full account history.
The estate amendment.
What was distributed and what wasn't.
Everything Ren touched."
"I've already started," Grace said.
"But Fabio — when this is complete, you'll have a choice to make.
This is civil territory at minimum.
Possibly more.
Are you prepared for what that means?"
"What does it mean?"
"It means Ren will find out you're looking.
And when he does, he'll call Vivienne.
And the two of them together—" She tapped her pen on the desk.
"They've been doing this for over twenty years.
They're practiced."
Fabio picked up his jacket from the back of the chair.
"So are we," he said.
"Keep going, Grace."
She nodded and turned back to her monitors.
In the hallway outside her office, Fabio stopped walking.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for just a moment.
I stood in front of him and waited.
"My whole life," he said, without opening his eyes, "I thought she left because she fell in love with someone else.
I thought it was just — a weakness.
A human thing." He opened his eyes.
"It was a business decision.
She left before she could be caught."
"Yes."
"And Ren helped her.
And then spent twenty years coming to Christmas dinner and asking about my firm and telling me Dad would be proud." His voice didn't shake.
That was almost worse.
"He was at the hospital when Dad passed.
He held my hand."
I reached up and put my hand against his face.
He leaned into it.
Just slightly.
"What do you need right now?" I asked.
"I need Ren to not know we know," he said.
"For as long as possible."
"Then we go home," I said.
"And we act like nothing has changed."
He straightened.
He took my hand.
"You're very good at this," he said.
"I learned from watching you handle your mother."
He almost smiled.
May you like
It didn't quite make it.
We walked out into the street, and somewhere across the city, I was certain Vivienne's phone was already ringing.
