Chapter 3
Angelo
Money is like blood. Both pump through systems that keep empires alive. Both leave stains when spilled. And both, when handled by someone who knows what they're doing, can create or destroy lives.
I know this because I've been handling the Bellanti family's blood money since I was twenty.
Nine years of transforming dirty cash into pristine investments. Nine years of becoming the man they call the Golden Prince—the financial wizard who legitimized the Bellanti name in boardrooms across Manhattan while my other siblings handle the other side of our businesses.
Matteo, the oldest brother, now Don of our family, oversees all the businesses and is to create alliances while trying to avoid wars from breaking out.
Isabella, the second child and my oldest sister, is in charge of some of our legitimate businesses, like the clubs we have all over the city.
Then we have my second older brother, Lorenzo. Our dearest enforcer, who takes care of the bloody part of businesses.
Finally, the fourth child, Olivia, my favorite older sister, but don't tell her that. As a lawyer, she used to be in charge of the legalities of our businesses, but after her marriage to her bodyguard turned husband, she started her own law firm.
And that leaves me—the prodigy behind the family finances. I handle whatever money problems we might have, but today, I'm handling something else entirely. A problem that isn't money- related.
I tap my Montblanc pen against the pristine surface of my desk as I wait for Veronica's recommended risk management consultant.
The Singapore situation needs containment before it spreads.
Usually, I'd handle this myself—trust no one but family, as my father taught us—but the Kovacs' moves in Hong Kong have me stretched thin.
Three sharp knocks on my door, and Elish, my assistant, enters.
"Ms. Bennett is here, Mr. Bellanti."
"Show her in."
I expect what I always get with consultants—an eager smile, an expensive presentation, and transparent ambition masquerading as competence. What walks through my door is something else entirely.
I remember looking through her file. Sarah Bennett, thirty-two. MBA from Northwestern. Risk management specialist with a focus on international finance. Unmarried. No children. Her parents died in an accident, and she currently lives alone in a high-rise apartment in Chicago.
She's all angles and sharp edges, from her severely pulled-back chestnut hair to the crease in her perfectly pressed charcoal gray pantsuit, a crisp white blouse underneath and pearl studs in her ears.
She carries a leather-bound notebook, and her brown eyes coolly assess my office before settling on me.
"Mr. Bellanti," she says, extending her hand. Her grip is firm. Professional. "Sarah Bennett."
I grip her hand and gesture to the chair across from my desk. "Please."
Instead of immediately sitting, her 5ft7ish athletic frame stands for precisely two seconds, eyes roaming the financial statements I've deliberately left visible on my desk. Only then does she take a seat, back straight, notebook placed at a perfect right angle to the edge of my desk.
I lean back, studying her. "Veronica speaks highly of your work."
"She should. I've saved three major firms from regulatory disasters in the past year alone." No smile. No false modesty. Just facts delivered.
"And how do you accomplish these miracles, Ms. Bennett?"
She ticks points off on her fingers as she speaks.
"First, I identify every weakness in the system.
Second, I determine which weaknesses could be exploited by regulators.
Third, I implement solutions that make those weaknesses either disappear or become strengths.
Fourth, I ensure the changes are permanent. "
I can't help the smirk that crosses my face. She's like a machine, ticking off points as if running through a checklist.
"Do you always count things off on your fingers, Little Auditor?" The nickname slips out of my mouth.
A flash of irritation breaks through her professional mask. Brief but unmistakable. Her fingers curl into her palm.
"I find organization enhances clarity, Mr. Bellanti."
The nickname clearly bothers her, which makes me want to use it more.
I stand up, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase Manhattan's skyline. "Tell me what you know about our Singapore situation."
"Only what Ms. Reeves shared. You've expanded rapidly there, which has attracted attention from regulators. Your compliance framework hasn't kept pace with growth."
She's careful with her words. Smart.
"And you believe you can fix this?"
"I wouldn't be here if I couldn't."
I turn to face her. She hasn't moved, hasn't reached for her phone to check notifications, has done nothing but maintain that perfect posture.
It's almost as if she's a robot. So unsettling.
"We handle billions in transactions across seventeen countries, Ms. Bennett. Our Asia-Pacific operations alone move more money in a day than most companies see in a year. The people who try to regulate us are always three steps behind. I need someone who can stay five steps ahead."
"Then you've found the right person."
The intercom buzzes. I press the button. "Yes?"
"Your brother is on line one."
"Tell him I'll call back in fifteen."
I study her a moment longer. There's something different about her. Most people who come into my office are either terrified or overeager. She's neither. Just...watchful. Those brown eyes miss nothing.
"The work would require complete discretion," I say, returning to my chair. "And access to our inner financial systems."
"I wouldn't be effective otherwise."
I slide a folder across to her. "This is what we're dealing with. Our Singapore expansion has created certain... inefficiencies."
Her eyebrows raise slightly as she reviews the numbers. She should be impressed. Those "inefficiencies" are actually perfectly designed laundering channels. To the untrained eye, they look like accounting errors. To someone who knows what they're looking at, they're works of art.
"I see," she says after a moment, her expression neutral. "These could indeed attract attention."
The door opens, and Veronica enters without knocking. She alone has that privilege.
"Angelo, I—" She stops, seeing Ms. Bennett. "I apologize for interrupting. I didn’t know you were already here, Ms. Bennett. "
"It's fine," I say. "Ms. Bennett and I were just discussing her potential involvement in our Singapore situation."
Veronica's smile is warm as she approaches.
"Sarah. I'm glad you made it." She turns to me. "She's exactly what we need, Angelo. Princeton economics, top of the field in risk management. I've heard of her ability to work miracles with regulatory problems."
The endorsement means something. Veronica has been my mentor since Wharton—the only professor who saw beyond the Bellanti name to recognize genuine talent.
When I graduated, I convinced her to leave academia for the private sector. Now she oversees our entire Asia-Pacific operation.
"You vouched for her, which is the reason she's in my office, and that's good enough for me." I turn back to Bennett. "When can you start?"
"Immediately."
"Good. You'll work directly under me." I stand, extending my hand. "Welcome aboard, Little Auditor."
That flash of irritation again. Perfect.
"Thank you, Mr. Bellanti."
Veronica excuses herself, and I instruct Bennett to return in an hour after clearing security protocols. After she leaves, I pull up her background check again on my tablet. Everything seems legitimate, but something about her doesn't quite add up. I can't place it yet.
My private line rings. I pick it up.
"The Vietnamese shipping company tried to back out," says Leonardo, one of my consultants on the other end. One of our business rivals has been undermining a key Bellanti operation.
I take a sip of my coffee. "Transfer their pension fund assets to our Cayman account. Then liquidate their personal holdings—all of them. Route the proceeds through the Singapore exchange, then disappear them."
"Their children's trust funds too?"
"Especially those. Make sure nothing can be traced."
"Consider it done."
I end the call just as my door opens again. Bennett stands there, documents in hand.
"Ms. Reeves asked me to deliver these to you," she says, hesitating at the door.
I wonder how much she heard. "Come in."
She approaches my desk, placing the folders down. I take another sip of coffee, studying her over the rim.
"You see, Ms. Bennett," I say casually, "some people need to learn that betrayal has consequences. Don't you think?"
Something flickers in her eyes.
"I imagine in your line of work, consequences are unavoidable," she replies carefully.
"In any line of work," I correct. "But especially mine." I slide the folders to the side. "Two hours, Ms. Bennett. My office. I'll introduce you to the team working on our Singapore..situation."
She nods, that severe bun not moving a millimeter. "I'll be here."
After she leaves, I pull up the security feed, watching her walk down the hallway to the elevators. Perfect posture. Measured steps. She looks like someone who's always in control.
I smile to myself. I do so enjoy breaking down people's carefully constructed facades. Finding what lies beneath the surface. And something tells me Sarah Bennett is hiding quite a lot beneath her professional armor.
This should be interesting.
Not as interesting as figuring out who's trying to compromise our Singapore operations, of course.
But definitely a close second.