Revenge Is Mine

10: The Sweating Rat

Chiara Moretti

I opened my eyes. The morning sun was bright, shining through the large glass windows of my bedroom. My thoughts went straight back to the underground bunker. I stared at the white ceiling, I waited for the panic to hit me about everything that happened the previous night, I waited for the tears to come, or for my stomach to turn sick like it used to do but nothing happened. My heart was beating at a slow, normal pace. My breathing was completely calm.

I pressed my hand against my chest. What is wrong with me? I wondered in the silence. A normal woman would be deeply traumatized, would run as far away as possible from a man who could break fingers without even blinking. I realized just how broken I truly was.

Marco did not just burn my skin two years ago. He burned away the soft, gentle parts of my soul. He killed the innocent Chiara who used to cry over little things and believe in true love.

I rolled over and reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, showing a long list of notifications waiting for me.

Seventeen missed calls.

Twelve long text messages.

All of them were from Marco Mancini.

A slow, dark smile touched my lips. He must have spent the entire night stressing over the financial access he gave me. I didn't open his messages to read them or call him back. I simply put the phone face down on the table, got out of bed, and walked into the bathroom. I took a long, hot shower, washing the smell of the bunker off my skin and preparing myself for the day.

When my driver dropped me off at the company building, I walked through the main lobby with my head held high. The moment the elevator doors slid open, I knew he was there.

My receptionist, Clara, was sitting at her desk. She looked extremely nervous and stressed. Standing right in front of her desk, pacing back and forth like a trapped animal, was Marco.

He looked like an absolute mess. He was wearing a very expensive suit, but his tie was pulled loose around his neck. His hair wasn't perfectly styled like it usually was, and there were dark, heavy bags under his eyes. He looked like a man who hadn't slept for a single minute.

The moment he heard my heels stepping onto the floor, he spun around. His eyes went wide with desperate relief.

"Viviana," he breathed out, taking a fast step toward me.

I did not stop walking."Good morning, Clara," I said to my receptionist, completely ignoring Marco's presence.

"Good morning, Ms. Marino," Clara replied softly, looking down at her desk.

I walked straight to the door of my office. Marco followed right behind me, walking quickly to keep up. I pushed the door open, walked inside, and went straight to my desk. I set my purse down and took a slow seat in my chair.

Only then did I look up at him. He was standing in the middle of the room, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking unsure of what to do.

"Sit," I commanded, pointing to the chair across from my desk.

Marco practically fell into the chair. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of my desk. "Viviana, please. I have been trying to reach you all morning, I called you so many times last night."

"I saw," I replied coldly, opening my laptop. "I was busy."

"I need to apologize," he said quickly, his words rushing out of his mouth. "About yesterday, about Alesia. I am so incredibly sorry that she came here and disrespected you. I had no idea she was going to do that, I swear."

I leaned back in my chair and stared at him. "You had no idea?"

"No! I swear to you," Marco begged, holding his hands up to show he was innocent. "She is completely out of control. I only kept her around out of pity, Viviana but yesterday was the final straw. She is just an insecure woman. She doesn't understand business. She saw me spending time with a beautiful, powerful investor, and she lost her mind with jealousy. I already dealt with her. She will never bother you again, I promise."

I listened to him talk, feeling a deep wave of disgust. He was throwing Alesia away so easily. The woman who helped him ruin me, the woman he claimed to love, was just a problem to him now. He had zero loyalty to anyone but his own wallet.

"Cage your dog, Marco," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh tone.

Marco blinked, looking totally shocked by my blunt words. "What?"

"You heard me," I said, leaning forward. "Cage your dog. If you want to do business with me, you will keep your personal messes far away from my office. I do not have time for screaming women and petty jealousy."

"It will never happen again," he promised, his face turning slightly red from embarrassment.

"I certainly hope not," I continued, not letting him breathe. "Because I have to be honest with you, Marco. Yesterday made me seriously question your competence. If you cannot even control the women in your own house, how on earth can I trust you to manage a fifty-million-euro investment? It is highly unprofessional."

"Viviana, please," he pleaded. He reached out across the desk, as if he wanted to touch my hand again. But he stopped himself, remembering how I rejected him at dinner. He pulled his hand back. "Do not let her ruin this deal. My company is solid, and I am completely focused on our partnership. The fifty million will change everything for both of us."

I looked at him in silence for a long time, and I let him sit there uncomfortably until I saw a small drop of sweat roll down the side of his face. "Alesia's little tantrum is the least of your problems right now," I finally said.

I opened my top desk drawer and pulled out a red folder. I dropped it heavily onto the center of the desk. "What is this?" he asked, his voice shaking just a little bit.

"That is the preliminary report from my private auditors," I told him. "I had them work through the night looking at your internal financial books."

All the color completely drained from Marco's face. "And?" he swallowed hard, "What did they find?"

"They found some very interesting things," I said. "Millions of euros missing from your cash reserves, massive monthly payouts to strange overseas management companies."

Marco stopped breathing. "My auditors are very good at their jobs, Marco," I continued, "They tried to trace these companies but they couldn't find any actual services provided to your firm. It looks like you are funneling massive amounts of money into empty accounts in Cyprus and Malta. It looks highly irregular. Some might even call it illegal."

"There is a simple explanation for all of this," Marco stammered out.

"I am listening," I said, folding my hands together.

"It is... it is an advanced tax strategy," he lied, stumbling over his words as he tried to think of an excuse. "Yes, tax strategies. We are preparing for a highly confidential international expansion. We had to move the money quietly so our competitors wouldn't find out."

It was a pathetic lie, but I let him dig his grave deeper. "A secret expansion?"

"Exactly!" Marco nodded eagerly, thinking I was actually stupid enough to believe him. "And the payments... well, some of those messy accounts were not my doing."

"Then whose doing were they?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at him.

Marco took a deep breath. "My late wife."

I felt a violent ringing start in my ears, the absolute nerve of this man. I dug my fingernails into my palms under the desk, "Your late wife?" I asked, raising one eyebrow slowly. "The woman who died in the car crash?"

"Yes," Marco said, shaking his head with a fake, sad look. "She was the CEO before me, remember? She was brilliant, but she made some very risky choices before she passed away. She opened those overseas accounts, and I have spent the last two years trying to clean up her mess. It takes time."

I wanted to reach across the desk and wrap my hands around his throat."I see," I said softly, forcing my face to stay completely blank. "So you are telling me this is just a big misunderstanding left behind by a dead woman?"

"Exactly," Marco breathed out a massive sigh of relief. "I am fixing it, Viviana. I swear."

"Well, Marco," I closed the red folder and pushed it back toward his side of the desk. "I do not invest my money in messy companies. And I certainly do not wire fifty million euros into accounts tied to 'advanced tax strategies' that look like fraud."

"No, Viviana, wait! We have a deal!"

"We have a deal when your books are clean," I corrected him sharply. "I have officially paused the investment. I will not send a single euro to your firm until those overseas accounts are fully explained, investigated, and cleared by my team. You need to prove to me exactly where that money is going."