Chapter 3 - The Trap is Set
The next morning, Bellandi Tower resumed its chaotic pace, but for Grace, the atmosphere was electric.
She sat at her desk just outside Luca’s office, her fingers flying across her keyboard, pretending to draft standard scheduling emails. In reality, she was monitoring the internal security feeds Luca had routed to her computer.
At 10:00 a.m., Paul DeVries walked onto the 37th floor.
DeVries was a man in his late fifties, impeccable in his three-piece tailored grey suit, carrying a leather briefcase with gold clasps. He had been the Bellandi family’s chief legal counsel for fifteen years, a man Luca’s grandfather had trusted implicitly.
He stopped at Grace’s desk, offering her a patronizing, greasy smile. "Ah, the new girl. The one who survived the coffee incident. Grace, isn't it?"
"Yes, Mr. DeVries," Grace said, keeping her voice high and slightly timid, playing the role of the clumsy, overwhelmed secretary perfectly. "Good morning."
"Is the boss in?"
"He is, but he’s in a rather difficult mood today," she whispered, leaning forward as if sharing a secret. "He’s been reviewing the East Boston port acquisition. He thinks there was a clerical error in the filing."
DeVries’s eyes flickered—a microscopic flash of panic that only someone looking for it would have noticed. He quickly masked it with a smooth chuckle. "Clerical errors are my specialty. I’ll go ease his mind."
He pushed open the mahogany doors and stepped inside.
As soon as the doors closed, Grace put on her headset, clicking on the hidden audio feed Luca had installed under his desk.
"Paul," Luca’s voice came through the speaker, calm and deceptively warm. "Sit down. I was just looking over the Back Bay development accounts. We seem to have a discrepancy in the material import tax write-offs."
There was a pause, the sound of paper rustling.
"Ah, the Back Bay project," DeVries replied, his voice smooth. "We had to route some of those funds through our European logistics partners to bypass the local steel tariffs. It’s all standard, Luca. Your grandfather authorized that pathway years ago."
"Did he?" Luca’s voice was dangerously soft. "Because I have the authorization form right here. The signature on it is very convincing. But my new secretary... she noticed something interesting about the pressure strokes."
A long, suffocating silence filled the line. Grace held her breath, her hand hovering over the panic button Luca had installed under her own desk.
"Luca," DeVries said, the warmth completely gone from his tone, replaced by a cold, arrogant sneer. "You always were too smart for your own good. But you’re young. You don't realize how the world actually works. Your grandfather knew that we had to share the pie. The Moretti family has owned the shipping lanes for decades. If I didn't route that twenty-two million to them, they would have shut down your entire supply chain."
"You didn't route it to protect my supply chain, Paul," Luca growled. "You routed it to buy yourself a villa in Monaco and a seat on the Moretti board. You betrayed my grandfather. You betrayed me."
"And what are you going to do about it?" DeVries mocked. "The signed documents are already in the federal database. If you expose me, you expose the Bellandi Group to a massive RICO investigation. If I go down, I take your entire family empire with me. You can't touch me, Luca."
"I don't need to expose you to the feds, Paul," Luca said, his voice flat and deadly. "Because I've already transferred your Swiss accounts back into our holding treasury. And the Moretti family? I sent them a complete record of how much of their share you’ve been skimming for yourself over the last eighteen months. Right now, they’re waiting for you in the parking garage."
Grace heard a sharp scraping of chairs, followed by DeVries’s panicked gasp.
"You're a monster," DeVries hissed.
"I am a Bellandi," Luca replied. "Now get out of my office."
The doors burst open. DeVries stumbled out, his face pale as paper, his pristine suit rumpled. He didn't even look at Grace as he sprinted toward the private elevators, desperate to escape the building before the shadows caught up to him.
Grace took off her headset, her hands shaking.
A moment later, Luca stepped out of his office. He looked at her, his expression entirely calm, though his eyes carried a dark, triumphant satisfaction.
"It's over," he said.
"Is he... is he going to be..." Grace couldn't bring herself to say the word.
"He chose his path, Grace," Luca said gently, walking over to her desk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, sealed gold envelope, placing it gently on her keyboard.
"Your rent has been paid for the next three years," Luca said. "And your father has been transferred to the Wellesley Private Care facility. I’ve pre-paid his medical expenses for the next decade. He will receive the best neurological treatment in the country."
Grace stared at the envelope, a sob rising in her throat. She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision. "Mr. Bellandi... I don't know what to say. I don't know how to thank you."
Luca leaned down, his face close to hers, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.
"You don't need to thank me, Grace. But your trial period is officially over."
May you like
He straightened up, adjusting his cuffs.
"Tomorrow morning, I expect you in my office at eight sharp. And try not to spill the coffee. I’ve grown rather fond of this desk."
