Chapter 10 - THE EMAIL THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
By Monday morning, Nicholas Marino was accused of helping cover up his mother's death.
The story broke at 6:12 a.m.
MARINO ATLANTIC CEO MAY HAVE KNOWN OF SAFETY THREATS BEFORE MOTHER'S FATAL CRASH
At 6:15, another outlet published emails.
At 6:19, financial television began repeating them.
At 6:25, Marino Atlantic stock dropped eight percent before the market even opened.
Avery read the first email in Nicholas's kitchen.
It appeared to be from twenty-three-year-old Nicholas to Charles Whitaker.
Mother is becoming paranoid about Antonio. Keep her away from the board. We cannot afford another family scandal.
The second:
If she insists on making accusations, handle it privately.
The third was worse.
Whatever happens, protect the company first.
Avery looked at Nicholas.
“Did you write these?”
“No.”
No hesitation.
Sofia stared.
“Can they be fake?”
Nicholas nodded.
“Anything can be fake.”
Marco entered.
“Our forensic team is checking.”
“Not the company team,” Nicholas said.
Marco understood.
Trust remained a luxury.
Avery reread the emails.
“What was your email address then?”
Nicholas told her.
The address matched.
“Writing style?”
“Close enough.”
“That means someone had old emails to imitate you.”
“Whitaker would.”
Nicholas poured coffee.
His hands were steady.
Too steady.
Avery knew the difference now between Nicholas calm and Nicholas holding himself together by force.
She took the mug from him.
“You haven't eaten.”
“This is not the time.”
“This is exactly the time.”
“Avery.”
“Toast.”
Sofia looked between them.
“I would obey her.”
Nicholas glared at his mother.
“She likes you.”
“I raised you. I have earned entertainment.”
Avery made him eat half a piece of toast.
At 7:40, the board requested an emergency meeting.
At 8:10, reporters appeared outside Marino Atlantic.
At 8:32, Charles Whitaker gave a statement.
He looked devastated.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Devastated.
Avery watched from Nicholas's office television.
“I considered Bianca Marino family,” Whitaker told reporters. “If these emails are authentic, I am heartbroken.”
Nicholas almost threw the remote.
Avery caught his wrist.
“No.”
“He murdered my mother.”
“We don't know that yet.”
“I know.”
“You believe.”
Nicholas turned toward her.
“Why are you defending him?”
“I am defending you from becoming careless.”
That silenced him.
She lowered her voice.
“If Whitaker did this, he wants you furious.”
Nicholas looked back at the screen.
“He has succeeded.”
“Feeling furious and acting stupid are different.”
His mouth twitched despite himself.
“Excellent employee support.”
“I haven't started invoicing you for emotional management yet.”
The board meeting began at ten.
Whitaker attended remotely.
He claimed health concerns kept him home.
Avery suspected cowardice.
Nicholas sat beneath a wall-sized display of shareholders waiting for judgment.
One director asked him directly:
“Did you know Bianca believed someone inside the company was sabotaging Marino Atlantic?”
“No.”
“Did she ever discuss Antonio with you?”
“Yes.”
“In what context?”
“Family conflict.”
“Did she mention Charles?”
“No.”
Whitaker appeared on-screen.
“Nicholas, please.”
Every head turned.
Whitaker sighed.
“You do not need to protect me.”
Nicholas's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Whitaker looked toward the board.
“Bianca did speak to Nicholas about me.”
Avery felt cold.
Nicholas stared.
“You're lying.”
Whitaker looked pained.
“She believed I had too much influence.”
“You are lying.”
“She asked Nicholas to remove me.”
“Charles.”
Whitaker continued.
“And Nicholas refused.”
Sofia stood.
“Stop.”
Whitaker's expression softened.
“Sofia, I know this is painful.”
“You know nothing about pain.”
Avery watched Whitaker carefully.
He barely reacted.
That was when she noticed it.
His right hand.
Resting beneath the camera frame.
Moving slightly.
Not nervous.
Reading.
Someone was feeding him answers.
Avery leaned toward Marco.
“Can you see where his video feed is coming from?”
“Corporate secure network.”
“Exact location?”
Marco typed.
Then frowned.
“That isn't his home.”
“Where?”
“Marino Atlantic satellite office in Jersey City.”
Nicholas turned.
Whitaker was supposedly at home in Westchester.
Marco whispered:
“He's inside one of our facilities.”
Avery immediately understood.
“Why?”
Then the building alarms began.
Not fire.
Security.
A message appeared across every conference-room screen.
DATA ACCESS VIOLATION — ARCHIVE SERVER
Nicholas stood.
Whitaker's video feed vanished.
Marco's phone rang.
“Go.”
He listened.
“Lock the building.”
Nicholas turned.
“What happened?”
Marco looked furious.
“Someone accessed the sealed Bianca litigation archive.”
“From where?”
“Jersey City.”
Whitaker.
Nicholas ran from the room.
Avery followed.
The Jersey City office was forty minutes away.
They made it in twenty-seven.
Police were already there.
Whitaker was gone.
A security guard had been found unconscious but alive in a storage corridor.
The archive room had been opened using a board-level security credential.
Inside, several old servers were missing.
So was one sealed evidence box.
Avery walked between the empty racks.
“Why steal physical servers after leaking emails?”
Nicholas stared at the blank shelf.
“To destroy originals.”
“Originals of what?”
Bellini arrived with federal investigators.
He looked at the missing shelf.
Then cursed in Italian.
“What?”
“That server contained the original corporate email backups from the year Bianca died.”
Avery understood.
“If the leaked emails are fake, the original backups could prove it.”
“Yes.”
Nicholas looked toward the loading dock.
Whitaker had stolen the best evidence that could clear him.
Then Marco called from the hallway.
“Nicholas.”
They went to him.
A security monitor showed footage from the garage.
Whitaker's vehicle leaving.
But he was not alone.
A woman sat in the passenger seat.
Avery leaned closer.
She recognized her.
“Claire?”
Nicholas frowned.
“Who?”
Avery's restaurant manager.
Claire Bennett.
The woman who had assigned Avery Table Fourteen on the night Nicholas collapsed.
The woman who knew his dietary restrictions.
His schedule.
His reservations.
His habits.
Avery felt something inside her drop.
Claire turned toward the camera just before the car disappeared.
And on her wrist was a familiar piece of jewelry.
A narrow platinum watch.
Not Nicholas's.
May you like
But identical to the one Bianca Marino wore in every photograph Avery had seen.
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