Chapter 17
Angelina
"Angelina." He didn't stand. "How kind of you to cut short your honeymoon to join us."
"Cut the shit, Vincent." I dropped my briefcase on the table with a thunk that made several board members jump. "You called this meeting. Let's get to it."
I scanned the room, cataloging allies and enemies. Margaret Chen, our longest-serving board member and my mother's friend. She was sympathetic, but cautious. Robert Paulson and David Kim, both brought in by Vincent over the years. Hostile.
Sarah Mitchell and James Rodriguez, neutral but leaning toward whoever seemed strongest. Thomas Brennan, Linda Washington, and Patricia Alvarez were still undecided, but I could work with that.
Four votes for Vincent including himself. Four potentially for me. Margaret was the swing vote.
"Very well." Vincent pulled out a folder thick with documents. "I've called this emergency meeting because I've discovered serious financial irregularities that require immediate board action."
"Irregularities you fabricated," I said calmly.
His smile didn't waver as he pointedly stared at me.
"I have documentation showing that over the past six months, you've authorized nearly two million dollars in unauthorized expenditures, created shell companies to funnel money out of Castellano & Co.
, and engaged in insider trading that could expose us to federal prosecution. "
"Show them," I said. "Show the board your 'evidence.'"
He did, passing around copies of purchase orders, transfer authorizations, and corporate documents that all bore what looked like my signature. I watched the board members' faces as they reviewed the materials. Concern. Confusion. In some cases, anger.
"These are serious allegations," Margaret said quietly. "Angelina, do you have a response?"
"I do." I opened my own briefcase and pulled out a much thicker folder. "But first, let's talk about where Vincent's 'evidence' actually came from."
I distributed my own copies—the real documents, side by side with Vincent's forgeries.
"These signatures Vincent claims are mine? They're forgeries. Good ones, I'll admit. But if you look closely—" I pointed to specific examples, "—the loop on my 'A' is wrong. The slant of my 'C' is off. These were copied from my real signatures but executed by someone else."
"That's absurd," Vincent said, but his voice had lost some of its confidence.
"Is it? Because I have these documents authenticated by three separate handwriting experts.
All of them confirm these signatures are not mine.
" I passed around those reports too. "I also have security footage showing I wasn't even in the building on several of the dates these documents were supposedly signed. "
I pulled out more papers. "On March 15th, when I allegedly authorized a $300,000 transfer to a shell company, I was actually in New York meeting with suppliers. I have hotel receipts, restaurant charges, and testimony from five witnesses."
I pulled out the printed copies and passed them around.
"On April 3rd, when I supposedly signed papers creating an offshore account, I was at a medical appointment. I have doctor's notes and pharmacy records."
I handed that over to them as well to see.
"And on May 14th—" I looked directly at Vincent, "—when I allegedly approved the single largest fraudulent transfer, I was at my own wedding. In front of two hundred witnesses."
I supplied my wedding invitation. The room was dead silent.
"So either I have the ability to be in two places at once," I continued, "or someone has been forging my signature and creating false documents to frame me for their own crimes."
"This is ridiculous," Vincent sputtered. "She's fabricating evidence to cover her tracks. She could have misdated these on purpose!"
"Am I? Could I?" I pulled out the final stack of papers—the ones Dez had given me months ago.
"Because I also have documentation of actual embezzlement. Two point three million dollars, to be exact, siphoned from company accounts over the past three years through fake vendor payments and inflated expense reports. That’s before all of your recent stunts. "
I distributed copies. "These are the real transactions. Real bank records. Real paper trails. And they all lead to accounts controlled by one person."
I looked at Vincent. "You want to guess who?"
His face had gone white.
"Vincent DeLuca has been systematically stealing from this company since before my mother died," I said, my voice hard.
"He's been positioning himself to take over, removing obstacles, inserting people in the right places,” I pointedly looked at the two of them in this room, “and when I started making changes that threatened his access—he decided to frame me for his own crimes and stage a coup. "
Margaret was studying the documents with sharp eyes. "These bank records... Vincent, this account number is registered to your name."
"That's… I can explain—"
"Please do," I said coldly. "Explain how your name ended up on accounts receiving fraudulent payments from our company. Explain the offshore accounts. Explain the shell corporations registered to your address."
He couldn't. He sat there, mouth opening and closing, no words coming out.
"I move to table the vote on Angelina's removal," Margaret said firmly. "And I move that we immediately launch a full investigation into these allegations against Vincent DeLuca."
"Seconded," Thomas Brennan said immediately.
"All in favor?" Margaret asked.
Eight hands went up. Only Vincent's stayed down.
"Motion carries." Margaret turned to Vincent. "Vincent, I'm going to have to ask you to surrender your keys and access cards. Effective immediately, you're suspended pending investigation."
"You can't do this!" Vincent shot to his feet. "I've been with this company for twenty years! You can't just kick me out!"
"We can and we are," I said. "And Vincent? I'm also filing criminal charges. For embezzlement, fraud, forgery, and corporate espionage. The Seattle PD is waiting outside to take your statement."
His face went from white to red. "You bitch. You think you've won? You think marrying Desmond protects you?"
"It does, actually." I smiled. "But that's beside the point. You stole from my mother's company. You stole from me. And now you're going to pay for it. This isn’t about Desmond or anybody else in this room. This is my company. It’s personal. I’m tired of you undermining me as if you have a right to be here.
My mother showed you mercy and for a while, I did too. Not anymore, uncle."
"I'll destroy you," he hissed, leaning across the table. "I'll burn this whole fucking company to the ground before I let you keep it."
“I’d love to see you try.” I leaned forward with same bravado he’d dared me with. “Goodbye, Vincent.”
The door opened and two security guards entered.
"Gentlemen," I said calmly. "Please escort Mr. DeLuca from the building. He's no longer welcome here."
"You can't—get your hands off me!" Vincent struggled as the guards took his arms. "This isn't over! You hear me, Angelina? This isn't fucking over!"
They dragged him out, his threats echoing down the hallway until a door slammed shut. The boardroom was silent.
"Well," Margaret said finally. "That was dramatic."
I sank into my chair where I belonged and let out a long breath.
"I apologize for the disruption," I said. "But I couldn't let him continue to undermine this company or myself."
"You did the right thing," Sarah Mitchell said. "We should have seen the signs earlier."
"We all should have," Margaret agreed. She looked at me with renewed respect. "Your mother would be proud. You handled that with grace and strength."
My throat tightened. "Thank you."
We spent the next hour going over next steps—hiring an outside firm to conduct a full audit, reviewing all of Vincent's hires and decisions, implementing new financial controls.
By the time the meeting ended, I was exhausted but victorious. Vincent was gone. The company was secure. I'd proven I could handle this without falling apart. And it’d all been done the way that I wanted it to be. I was gathering my materials when my phone rang. Speak of the beautiful devil.
"How did it go?" Dez asked immediately.
"He's out. Voted to suspend him pending investigation, and the police are processing him now." I headed toward my office. "It's done."
"Good. But we have a problem."
My stomach dropped and my steps slowed. "What kind of problem?"
"Bomb squad just finished sweeping your house. They found an explosive device in your garage. Professional grade, designed to detonate when the door opened."
“Why were they ‘sweeping my house’ in the first place?”
“Because I had a security team go over to make sure that it was safe to enter. The plan was to have the movers go there after our honeymoon to move your things here. I worked on it today since I technically have nothing to do. They found the bomb and so a squad was called. Hence…”
I stopped walking. "What?" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
"You're not going there tonight. I'm sending a car to pick you up. Go to the lobby and wait for Matvey. He'll bring you to the penthouse."
"Dez—"
"And Angelina? I'm sending a team to sweep the Castellano building too. This isn't over. Vincent's has bigger plans, obviously. I need to make sure that all of our bases are covered. You’re the priority here. So you’ll come home where I know it’s safe."
"He threatened me," I said quietly, remembering his words. "Said he'd burn the company down before he let me keep it."
"Then we take him seriously." Dez's voice was hard. "Go to the lobby now. Don't stop, don't talk to anyone. Matvey will be there in five minutes."
"What about you?"
"I'll meet you at home. I have some calls to make first and a few stops." He paused. "I love you. Be careful."
"I love you too." I hung up and headed for the elevator, my heart pounding.