Chapter 3 - THE RED GLASSESDenise Kessler returned to the estate at 8:40 the next morning.
She claimed her phone battery had died.
Marco did not believe her.
Neither did Alessandro.
Denise sat across from the walnut desk wearing the red-framed glasses Emma had described.
Her posture was perfect.
She had supervised household staff for six years.
Alessandro had spoken with her perhaps twenty times.
Every conversation had been efficient.
She always knew how many workers were scheduled.
Which rooms were being renovated.
Which guests had special requirements.
She had never once mentioned workers being afraid to call in sick.
“Did you tell Sofia Delgado she would be fired for missing work?”
Denise looked shocked.
“No.”
“Did you tell employees missing shifts would cost them housing?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Sofia to use industrial degreaser in the basement?”
“No.”
Three answers.
Immediate.
Clean.
Alessandro leaned back.
“Then she invented all three?”
“She may be confused.”
“Why?”
“She’s under stress.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Alessandro noticed the language.
The worker was always mistaken.
Never the manager.
“Where were you yesterday?”
“I had a personal appointment.”
“Why turn off your phone?”
“It died.”
“Why didn’t you charge it?”
Denise looked irritated.
“I didn’t realize I was being investigated.”
“You weren’t.”
Alessandro paused.
“Until you disappeared.”
Denise swallowed.
Then changed strategy.
“Sofia has had attendance issues.”
“How many?”
“Several.”
“Documented?”
“Yes.”
She slid a folder forward.
Sofia Delgado.
Three written warnings.
One for lateness.
One for an unexcused absence.
One for “refusal to complete assigned sanitation duties.”
Alessandro read.
The unexcused absence occurred eight months earlier.
Reason listed:
“No call/no show.”
Marco checked his tablet.
“Sofia badged into the estate at 6:58 a.m. that date.”
Denise frowned.
“That may be a different shift.”
“It says seven.”
Alessandro looked up.
“Next.”
The refusal warning involved basement chemical cleaning.
Sofia had supposedly refused without legitimate reason.
Then completed it later.
Alessandro stared.
“She has asthma.”
“She never disclosed that to me.”
Marco opened another file.
“Her pre-placement health form lists asthma.”
Denise’s face changed.
“HR handles that.”
“Who is HR?”
“Crestline.”
There it was.
Crestline Residential Services.
The contractor employing most non-security household staff.
Moretti Holdings paid Crestline nearly $3.2 million per year to staff three family properties.
The contract included wages.
Overtime.
Paid sick leave.
Health-insurance contributions.
Training.
Housing administration.
Denise technically worked for Crestline.
Not Alessandro.
That had always seemed convenient.
Now it looked like distance.
Alessandro asked:
“Does Sofia have paid sick leave?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five days.”
Marco interrupted.
“The contract says ten.”
Denise looked at him.
“Crestline’s employee policy may differ.”
Alessandro’s voice cooled.
“The contract I pay says workers assigned exclusively to Moretti properties receive ten.”
Denise adjusted her glasses.
“You’d have to ask corporate.”
“I will.”
“Then perhaps we should end this interview.”
Marco almost smiled.
Alessandro did not.
“You’re still inside my house.”
Denise stayed seated.
“Did you threaten Sofia’s cottage?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
Alessandro opened the housing agreement Marco had obtained from the contractor portal.
Thirty-day termination clause.
There it was.
The document was real.
But it was not the version Moretti Holdings approved.
Their master agreement required ninety days.
The workers were signing a different policy.
“Who changed this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who sends housing documents?”
“Crestline operations.”
“Name.”
Denise hesitated.
“Victor Salerno.”
Marco looked toward Alessandro.
That name mattered.
Victor was not a stranger.
He was Moretti’s own director of estate operations.
Fifty-one.
Trusted.
Had worked for the family since Alessandro’s father was alive.
Victor managed contractor relationships.
Security coordination.
Maintenance budgets.
Staffing.
He had personally recommended Crestline.
Alessandro stared at Denise.
“Victor approved this?”
“I assume.”
“Don’t assume.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“His initials are on the revisions.”
Marco found them.
V.S.
Small.
Bottom corner.
Alessandro felt something colder than anger.
He had known Victor Salerno for twenty-three years.
Victor attended his father’s funeral.
Had driven Alessandro’s mother to oncology appointments.
Had held keys to every Moretti property.
If Victor was involved, this was not poor supervision.
It was betrayal.
Denise leaned forward.
“Mr. Moretti, Sofia is not telling you everything.”
Alessandro looked up.
“What isn’t she telling me?”
“She takes supplies.”
“What?”
“Cleaning products. Paper goods. Sometimes food.”
Marco frowned.
“Evidence?”
“Inventory discrepancies.”
“Video?”
“Not always.”
Denise continued.
“She has financial problems.”
Alessandro recognized the maneuver.
Discredit the complainant.
“She also brought a child into a restricted area.”
“Her child came without her knowledge.”
“Still.”
“And you think that explains unpaid overtime?”
Denise went quiet.
Alessandro leaned closer.
“Where is the overtime money?”
“I don’t handle payroll.”
“Who does?”
“Crestline.”
“Who approves invoices?”
“Victor.”
Again.
Victor.
Alessandro stood.
The interview was over.
Denise asked:
“Am I suspended?”
“Yes.”
Her face tightened.
“For what?”
“For preserving the integrity of an investigation.”
“You cannot suspend a Crestline employee.”
Alessandro looked at Marco.
“Remove her access to every Moretti property.”
Marco nodded.
Denise stood.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Alessandro replied:
“Maybe.”
Then:
“That’s why I’m checking.”
As Marco escorted her out, Denise turned.
“You think Sofia is innocent because her daughter made you emotional.”
Alessandro’s face changed.
“No.”
He remained calm.
“I think a child told me her mother was scared.”
He looked directly at Denise.
“Everything after that came from records.”
Denise left.
Five minutes later Marco returned.
“Victor’s coming.”
“Good.”
“He says this is all a contractor issue.”
Alessandro looked at the altered housing agreement.
Then the overtime invoices.
“No.”
May you like
He tapped Victor’s initials.
“It stopped being a contractor issue when someone inside my company signed it.”
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