Chapter 7 - The Number That Kept Returning
Sharon spent the next two days rebuilding the company’s vendor history.
Domenico asked her not to chase theories.
“Just tell me what the records show.”
By Friday afternoon, she had a clearer picture.
The questionable invoices were not random.
They clustered around three suppliers Marco controlled personally.
One was legitimate but repeatedly billed DeLuca for upgraded materials that never reached the job sites.
Another charged “expediting fees” that no project manager remembered authorizing.
The third was a small specialty hardware company run by a man named Eric Nolan, one of Marco’s friends from high school.
The amounts varied.
The pattern did not.
$2,350.
$2,480.
$2,425.
$2,390.
Domenico stared at the spreadsheet.
Sharon leaned against the conference table.
“Nothing magical about those numbers.”
“No.”
“But you recognize something.”
He did.
They were all close to $2,400.
The number from the old company payments to Anthony.
He called Camilla.
She arrived carrying the yellow legal pad she had been using to write down everything she remembered.
Domenico turned the laptop toward her.
“Look at the amounts.”
She did.
At first nothing happened.
Then she whispered, “Oh my God.”
“You see it.”
“Marco wasn’t calculating a total.”
Domenico nodded.
“He was recreating the payments.”
Camilla sat down.
“Why would he do that?”
Neither Sharon nor Domenico answered.
Camilla scrolled through the dates.
One payment had been issued on March 11.
Another April 9.
Another May 10.
Nearly monthly.
Not perfectly.
But close.
Sharon said, “If I didn’t know the family history, I’d call it a recurring purchasing problem.”
Camilla looked at Domenico.
“He thinks this is what you were supposed to pay his dad.”
“Maybe.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me he was doing it monthly?”
That was the question.
Camilla had believed she was approving temporary supplier adjustments.
She had not known Marco was reproducing an old payment pattern.
The distinction mattered.
It meant Marco had hidden part of his reasoning even from the person helping him.
Domenico did not enjoy seeing his daughter realize that.
He had been angry at her.
He still was.
But anger did not make watching a marriage fracture satisfying.
Camilla pulled out her phone.
“I’m calling him.”
Domenico stopped her.
“Ask one question.”
“What?”
“Ask him what happened on the tenth of each month.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Because those old payments to Anthony went out around the tenth.”
Camilla called.
Marco answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“At Dad’s.”
A pause.
“Of course.”
Camilla ignored it.
“What happened on the tenth?”
Silence.
Domenico watched her face.
She repeated the question.
“The tenth of what?”
“Don’t do that. The monthly payments. Why did you choose those dates?”
Marco breathed out slowly.
“My father used to wait for those checks.”
“How do you know?”
“My mother told me.”
Gina had not told them that.
Camilla stood.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Before or after you started working for Dad?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A lot.”
Marco’s voice became sharper.
“Camilla, you know what he did.”
“No. I know what you told me he did.”
The sentence changed something in the room.
Domenico heard it.
So did Marco.
There was a long pause.
Then Marco said, “You’re taking his side.”
Camilla closed her eyes.
“I’m asking you a question.”
“I’m your husband.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Another pause.
Then Marco said quietly, “My father told me about the checks before he died.”
Gina had said Marco knew almost nothing.
Anthony had apparently told him more than she realized.
Camilla looked at Domenico.
“When?”
Marco answered.
“After I got engaged to you.”
Domenico felt the pattern lock into place.
Anthony had waited until Marco was about to marry Domenico’s daughter.
Then he had handed his son a grievance.
May you like
Not as childhood history.
As inheritance.
