Chapter 10 Angelo
Angelo
Something isn't right.
The numbers swim before my eyes as I scan Veronica's restructuring plan for the sixth time. Most men would've missed it by now—the inconsistencies buried beneath layers of financial jargon. But I've never been most men.
These fund transfers don't match any regulatory framework I know.
I snatch my phone and dial my most trusted analyst. "I need a complete trace of these transfers. Keep it quiet." I hang up before he can ask questions. The fewer people involved, the better.
The encrypted report lands three hours later. I stare at my screen, gut clenching. The Hong Kong restructuring didn't just expose us to regulators—it mapped our entire financial network. Worse, someone's been accessing it from unauthorized terminals.
"Fuck." The word escapes through my mouth as I trace the breach patterns. Two distinct signatures emerge:
A sophisticated infiltration through Veronica's credentials and multiple small extractions via the New York system.
My stomach twists. Veronica? The thought feels like a knife to the chest. I refuse to believe it without concrete proof. Not her. Not the woman who picked up the pieces after what happened with my mother.
My phone vibrates: "Kovacs made an offer to the board. Hostile takeover in progress."
Everything clicks with sickening clarity. I immediately trigger a system-wide lockdown and begin monitoring all transactions, my mind racing through countermeasures.
A diagnostic flags multiple devices—including that damn pen holder Sarah gave me. The one sitting innocently in my desk drawer.
Another memory surfaces. Two nights ago during the storm, I caught her at my bookshelf. When I questioned her, she claimed she needed reading material, but there was a slight tremor in her voice I ignored because my phone was ringing with urgent Kovac updates.
I pull up the security footage from my penthouse. My blood runs cold as I watch Sarah methodically plant listening devices throughout my home office.
"You too?" I whisper, the betrayal cutting deeper than I thought possible.
For the first time since my mother's actions, I feel my eyes burn. One traitorous tear escapes, trickling hot down my face. I swipe it away, disgusted with myself. With her. With how fucking stupid I've been.
I'd let her in. Past every defense, every wall I'd built. I'd whispered things against her skin at night I'd never told another soul. I'd thought maybe—just maybe—I wasn't damaged beyond repair.
What a joke.
I ran "Sarah Bennett" through our facial recognition database. Something I should have fucking done when Veronica brought her in. But I didn't because I trusted Veronica.
That they might have been working together with the Kovacs flashes through my mind. But it’s immediately put to dust when the computer pings and the results I see turn my blood cold.
Special Agent Gianna Rossi, Special Enforcement Commission (SEC)Division.
The woman I've been falling for—the woman who made me laugh genuinely for the first time in years, who somehow slipped past every defense—is a federal agent sent to destroy everything I've built.
I laugh, the sound raw in my empty office. Being a fool is a new feeling. I don't like it.
Rage comes next, familiar and clarifying. It floods my system like a drug, steadying my hands, clearing my mind. They think they've won.
Veronica, the closest thing I've had to a mother, working with Kovacs right under my nose. And Gianna Rossi, playing me like I was nothing.
I stand, catching my reflection in the window—a man I barely recognize. I've been hurt before, but never like this.
The pain in my chest hardens into something cold and lethal. They want to see what Angelo Bellanti does when backed into a corner?
I'll fucking show them.