Chapter 8: Rafael Opens Every Locked Door
Lucille forced Rafael into the decision he had been avoiding.
She petitioned the board again.
This time she alleged that Rafael had improperly used company systems to investigate relatives for personal reasons.
Her lawyers demanded the internal review stop.
Some directors agreed that the conflict had become too personal for Rafael to supervise.
Katherine gave him two options.
Fight to keep control of the investigation.
Or transfer everything to a completely independent forensic firm and special board committee.
The second option was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Montaro Holdings had spent decades operating in the gray space between legitimate family business and a family culture accustomed to solving problems privately.
An outside forensic firm might find misconduct unrelated to Lucille.
Improper expense accounts.
Questionable contractor relationships.
Tax issues.
Payments Rafael had inherited rather than created but still allowed to continue.
“They won’t limit themselves to Celina,” Katherine said.
“I know.”
“They may find things that hurt you.”
“I know.”
“They may refer serious findings.”
Rafael looked toward the garden outside his office.
“Do it.”
Katherine did not move.
“You understand that once they have the records, you don’t get to decide what truth is inconvenient?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t close the door because they reach your side of the hallway.”
“I know.”
She slid the authorization toward him.
Rafael signed.
It was the hardest decision he had made since Natalie died.
Not because he feared losing money.
Because he had been raised to believe family survived by controlling who saw its failures.
Now he was voluntarily giving outsiders access.
Lucille called him within ten minutes of hearing.
He answered only because Katherine recorded the fact of the call in her notes, not the conversation itself.
“You’re insane,” Lucille said.
“You wanted independence.”
“Not this.”
“Exactly.”
“You have no idea what they’ll find.”
Rafael became quiet.
Lucille seemed to realize what she had said.
“What do you think they’ll find, Aunt Lucille?”
She hung up.
That night Rafael moved Emmett temporarily to a smaller lakefront house he owned outside Chicago.
Not the Montaro estate.
No family drop-ins.
No business dinners.
Only Rafael, Emmett, two child-care staff members rotating shifts, and security outside.
The first night Emmett asked why the house was quiet.
Rafael tucked him in.
“Because quiet is good sometimes.”
“Family coming?”
“Not tonight.”
May you like
Emmett smiled.
For Rafael, that was answer enough.
Related Stories
