Chapter 3 - The Money That Should Have Been There
The following morning, Domenico arrived at the company before seven.
He had barely slept.
DeLuca Architectural Millwork occupied a brick industrial building fifteen minutes from his house. The front offices smelled faintly of coffee and sawdust no matter how often the cleaning crew came through. Domenico usually found that comforting.
That morning it felt unfamiliar.
Marco’s truck was not in the lot.
Domenico had told him not to come in until they sorted out what was happening.
He had told Camilla the same thing.
Camilla worked three days a week handling purchasing approvals and vendor records. Marco supervised installation crews and increasingly handled supplier relationships.
Giving family more responsibility had once felt like succession planning.
Now it felt like negligence.
Domenico called his longtime CPA, Sharon Whitcomb, and asked her to come in.
He did not accuse anyone of stealing.
He said only, “I need you to look at purchasing for the last twelve months. Especially anything Marco approved or Camilla co-approved.”
Sharon arrived two hours later.
By noon, they had found the first problem.
It was not sixty thousand dollars.
It was smaller.
Which somehow made it worse.
A hardware supplier had invoiced DeLuca for premium European drawer slides on three separate commercial projects.
The projects had been completed with a less expensive domestic brand.
Domenico knew because he had personally approved the substitution during a shipping delay.
Yet the company had paid the higher invoices.
“Could be a billing error,” Sharon said.
“Three times?”
“Could still be sloppy.”
“Who approved them?”
Sharon rotated her laptop.
Camilla’s electronic initials appeared beside the payments.
Domenico leaned back.
He did not say anything.
Sharon noticed.
“You want me to keep going?”
“Yes.”
They kept going.
By midafternoon they had identified seven questionable invoices totaling just over eighteen thousand dollars.
Not every invoice was necessarily fraudulent. Some could be corrected by credits, rebates, or purchase-order timing.
But all seven had one thing in common.
Marco had negotiated the orders.
Camilla had approved payment.
Domenico called his daughter.
She answered on the third ring.
“Dad?”
“Come to the office.”
A pause.
“Is Marco there?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She arrived in seventeen.
Domenico did not raise his voice.
He showed her the invoices one at a time.
At the third, Camilla stopped pretending to be confused.
“Dad—”
“Did you know these were wrong?”
She looked toward Sharon.
Sharon quietly stood.
“I’ll give you both a few minutes.”
When the door closed, Camilla rubbed both hands over her face.
“I knew some of them didn’t match.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You approved them.”
“Marco said there were supplier credits coming later.”
“Were there?”
“I didn’t check.”
Domenico stared at her.
Camilla’s voice tightened.
“He told me it was temporary.”
“What was temporary?”
She looked away.
There were moments in parenthood that felt strangely similar no matter how old the child became.
The lie changed.
The stakes changed.
But the silence before an admission did not.
Domenico waited.
Camilla whispered, “He said he was recovering part of what your company owed his father.”
Domenico stood.
“You let him take company money?”
“I didn’t think he was taking it.”
“What did you think he was doing?”
“He said some supplier commissions should have been his. He said you’d never pay him what Anthony was owed, so he was balancing it out through vendor pricing.”
“Balancing it out.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
She flinched.
Domenico walked to the window.
Outside, one of the shop employees was loading cabinet doors onto a padded rack.
People depended on those paychecks.
Not just Domenico.
Not just his family.
Twenty-three employees.
Some had been with him for more than a decade.
He turned back.
“How much has Marco taken?”
“I don’t know.”
“You approved payments without knowing?”
“I believed him.”
Domenico’s anger shifted then.
Not away from Marco.
Toward himself.
He had spent years trusting Camilla because she was his daughter and Marco because Camilla loved him.
He had confused familiarity with oversight.
“Your access is suspended,” he said.
Camilla stared at him.
“Dad.”
“Purchasing, banking approvals, company cards. Everything until Sharon finishes.”
“You think I stole from you?”
“I think you stopped asking whether something was wrong because you were afraid of what the answer would do to your marriage.”
Camilla’s eyes filled, but Domenico did not soften the sentence.
She knew it was true.
Then she said something he had not expected.
“Marco has proof Anthony gave you the money.”
Domenico nodded slowly.
“The withdrawal?”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
Camilla hesitated.
“He has a photocopy of one of Mom’s old checks.”
Domenico felt the conversation shift again.
“Payable to whom?”
“Gina Bellini.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-four hundred dollars.”
Domenico stopped moving.
Camilla watched him carefully.
“It was written six months after Anthony left the company.”
For the first time since the vase broke, Domenico understood why Marco’s story had been convincing.
May you like
Because that check was real.
And Domenico remembered exactly why Teresa had written it.
