Chapter 2 - The Company Owned by a Dead Man
By nine the next morning, Celia had slept forty-three minutes.
The locksmith changed both apartment locks at 2:20 a.m. Officer Meyers took screenshots of Travis’s messages and the photograph from across the alley. A patrol car remained outside until dawn.
Lorenzo left after Celia told him to.
That mattered too.
He did not send flowers.
He did not text her fifteen times.
At 7:11, one message appeared.
Monarch documents attached. Public filings only. You decide whether they matter.
Celia stared at it over bad office coffee.
No “good morning.”
No “are you safe?”
Just evidence she could verify.
She hated how much she appreciated that.
Her supervisor, Ruth Caldwell, called her into the conference room at eight.
Ruth had mentored Celia for four years. She was fifty-six, practical, divorced, and capable of making contractors confess billing errors with nothing more than a yellow legal pad and disappointed silence.
She closed the door.
“You took Harbor Light home.”
Celia’s stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was rebuilding the invoice timeline.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“I thought I could finish faster.”
“You violated office policy.”
“Yes.”
Ruth leaned back.
“You know I have to document that.”
“I know.”
“Was the file stolen?”
“Yes.”
“Police report?”
Celia slid it across the table.
Ruth read.
Her face changed at Travis’s name.
“Your ex.”
“Yes.”
“You told me he was bothering you.”
“I understated it.”
“You usually do.”
Celia looked down.
Ruth sighed.
“We’re moving you off Harbor Light until internal security reviews the breach.”
“No.”
“Celia.”
“I found a vendor linked to a dissolved company created by a dead man. The file disappears the same night my ex follows me into traffic.”
“That is exactly why you’re off it.”
“Because I’m close?”
“Because you’re compromised.”
The word hit harder than Celia expected.
Ruth softened.
“I am not blaming you.”
“It feels similar.”
“I know.”
Celia stood.
“I want a copy of the transfer order.”
“You’ll get one.”
“And I want internal security to preserve access logs before anyone overwrites them.”
Ruth paused.
“Already requested.”
That was why Celia trusted her.
Or had.
At 10:30, Mina Alvarez found Celia in the records room.
Mina was thirty-one, tiny, loud, and the only person in the office who could insult a spreadsheet convincingly.
“You look awful.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean haunted.”
“Better.”
Mina closed the door.
“Ruth pulled you?”
“Yes.”
“I heard security is checking your credentials.”
Celia frowned.
“Why my credentials?”
Mina handed over a printout.
Someone had accessed Harbor Light’s digital case folder at 1:14 a.m.
Using Celia’s account.
Celia was with police at 1:14.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Did they download anything?”
“Twenty-seven files.”
Celia felt sick.
“From where?”
“Remote access.”
“My password was changed three months ago.”
“Could Travis know it?”
“No.”
“Could anyone?”
Celia thought.
The office required multifactor authentication through her phone.
Unless someone had duplicated her session token from a work laptop.
Her laptop was still in her apartment.
Untouched.
Or apparently untouched.
“Internal security needs my machine.”
“They’re sending someone.”
Celia stared at the printout.
The theft of the paper file suddenly felt almost theatrical.
Someone wanted her to notice one breach while another happened invisibly.
At noon, a receptionist called.
A man named Lorenzo Duca was downstairs.
Ruth appeared at Celia’s cubicle ten seconds later.
“Why is Lorenzo Duca in my lobby?”
Celia looked up.
“You know him.”
“Everyone who investigates city waterfront contracts knows him.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It should.”
Ruth lowered her voice.
“Duca Maritime controls half the private freight access on the South Branch. His legitimate businesses are legitimate enough. The rest of his reputation is not something you invite into a municipal office.”
Celia stood.
“He pulled me out of traffic last night.”
Ruth stopped.
“He what?”
“And Monarch was founded by his dead brother.”
Ruth’s expression emptied for half a second.
There.
Again.
A tiny pause.
Celia noticed.
“You knew that.”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I reacted because you just linked an active case to Lorenzo Duca.”
“Different thing.”
Ruth’s jaw tightened.
“You are off the case.”
“I can still speak to a citizen.”
“You can speak to whoever you want after work.”
Celia stared at her mentor.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
She met Lorenzo at a coffee shop across the street.
He wore a charcoal suit without a tie. Two men remained outside.
Celia looked through the glass.
“Are they always there?”
“Yes.”
“Do they have names?”
“Dominic and Eli.”
“Good. People become creepier when described only as men in suits.”
Lorenzo almost smiled.
He slid a folder across the table.
“Matteo created Monarch to buy contaminated industrial lots cheaply, clean them, and resell them.”
“Why?”
“He was trying to turn part of our family business legitimate.”
“Part?”
Lorenzo’s gaze held hers.
“My family has made money in ways your office would not approve of.”
“Understatement?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a mob boss?”
A woman at the next table looked over.
Lorenzo did not.
“That depends whether you’re asking for a newspaper headline or a legal definition.”
“Legal.”
“I have never been convicted of racketeering.”
“That was not my question.”
“No.”
Celia waited.
He sighed.
“Yes. People call me that.”
She sat back.
“You say it like people call you tall.”
“I cannot control what strangers call me.”
“You can control why.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Fair.”
She opened his folder.
Matteo Duca’s Monarch had been dissolved after his death. The new Monarch used a different tax ID but copied the old logo, letterhead, and project history.
Someone wanted city officials to believe the new company had nine years of experience.
“Who benefits?” Celia asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t usually say that, do you?”
“No.”
His phone buzzed.
He ignored it.
Celia showed him the remote-access printout.
“Someone used my credentials last night.”
Lorenzo read it.
“This is bigger than Travis.”
“I know.”
“Does Travis work in technology?”
“No. Private security.”
“For whom?”
Celia hesitated.
“Sentinel Bridge Protective Services.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
This time not subtly.
“Say that again.”
“Sentinel Bridge.”
He leaned back.
“My brother hired Sentinel the month before he died.”
Celia’s pulse quickened.
“To protect him?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“He never told me.”
A terrible thought settled between them.
Celia asked, “How did Matteo die?”
Lorenzo looked through the window at the traffic.
“His car went off Lake Shore Drive in winter.”
“Accident?”
“That was the finding.”
“You don’t believe it.”
“No.”
Celia closed the folder.
“This is where stories usually become ridiculous.”
“What stories?”
“The ones where every dead person is connected.”
Lorenzo’s mouth moved faintly.
“Reality has poor taste.”
Her phone rang.
Mina.
Celia answered.
Mina did not say hello.
“Your laptop is clean.”
“Okay.”
“But your office desktop isn’t.”
Celia went cold.
“What happened?”
“Someone installed a remote-access tool on it.”
“When?”
Mina swallowed.
“Seven weeks ago.”
Seven weeks.
Travis had been following her for weeks.
But he had never entered the municipal office.
Employees needed badges.
Visitors were logged.
Celia looked across the street at the building.
Someone inside had opened the door for him.
Or someone inside had done it themselves.
Mina continued.
“And Celia?”
“What?”
“The installer used an administrator account.”
“Whose?”
Silence.
May you like
Then:
“Ruth Caldwell’s.”
