Page 12 of Indigo Deception
"Three weeks before the first reporting period."
There is not enough time to move everything. We'll have to compartmentalize, create new channels while maintaining the old ones just long enough to transition without attracting attention.
"I'll need to see our entire international banking network," I decide. "Every connection, every shell company, every transfer point. We need to find vulnerabilities before they do."
Veronica nods, her expression unreadable. "I'll get you access. But first, I think I should review the network myself. I'll need full access to analyze where we're most exposed."
I hesitate. Even Veronica rarely has complete access. But these are unusual times.
"You're thinking too hard about this, Angelo," she says, with the same tone she used when I was her student at Wharton. "This is exactly whatthey want—to make you second-guess every decision until you're paralyzed."
She's right, of course. She always is. That's why I've trusted her to run our Asia-Pacific operations for the past decade. That's why I see her as a mother figure I lost years ago.
"Fine," I tell her. "Full access. But I want daily reports on what you find."
My phone buzzes again. This time it's an alert—Claire Kovac has been spotted at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, attending the same charity gala I'm scheduled for tonight.
I feel a twist in my gut at the name. Claire and I have... a history. Wharton, senior year, before I knew who her father was. Before I understood how the world really worked. She's Stefano's greatest weapon—brilliant, beautiful, and utterly ruthless.
"Something wrong?" Veronica asks, noting my expression.
I showed her the alert. "Claire's at the Met Gala tonight. Stefano too, probably."
Veronica's expression tightens almost imperceptibly. "Are you still planning to attend?"
"Absolutely," I say, straightening my tie. "I think it's time the Kovacs, and I had a proper conversation about their recent business activities."
Veronica gathers her things, slipping the reports into her designer briefcase. "Be careful, Angelo. The Kovacs aren't people you want to underestimate."
"Neither am I," I reply, my voice hard.
After she leaves, I return to my computer, pulling up the secure network where our most sensitive information is stored. I spend hours restructuring accounts, creating new pathways for our money. If the Kovacs want a war, I'll give them one they can’t win.
___
The Metropolitan Museum of Art glows against the night sky as I step out of my car. Cameras flash around the entrance as photographers capture New York's elite arriving for the annual Art Restoration Gala. I straighten my custom Tom Ford tuxedo and make my way up the steps.
Inside, the Great Hall has been transformed into an opulent reception area. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm light over the crowd of socialites, politicians, and businessmen and women mingling among the statues. I grab a champagne from a passing waiter and scan the room.
It doesn't take long to spot them. Stefano Kovac stands near a Greek sculpture, his imposing frame and flap of white hair unmistakable even from across the room. Beside him, Claire shimmers in an emerald gown that matches her eyes perfectly. She's talking animatedly with a senator's wife, her fake smile on full display.
I make my way through the crowd, nodding at acquaintances but stopping for no one. As I approach, Claire's eyes lock with mine, her smile faltering for just a moment before returning.
"Angelo Bellanti," she purrs, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Hardly a surprise," I reply, taking her hand briefly. "This is my event, after all. The Bellanti Foundation sponsors it every year."
"Of course," Stefano interjects, offering his hand. His grip is firm, challenging. "Your family's philanthropy is well known."
I meet his icy blue gaze. "Among other things."
The senator's wife, sensing tension, leaves, leaving the three of us in our own bubble despite the crowded room.
"I understand congratulations are in order," I continue, keeping my voice casual. "You've been quite busy with acquisitions lately."
Stefano's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Business opportunities present themselves. Smart men take advantage."
"And what about hostile takeovers disguised as market investments?" I ask, sipping my champagne. "Is that smart business too?"
