Page 27

“Was the outage intentional?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

“We believe someone caused it deliberately, but we don’t know why.” I step closer and lower my voice. “The tasting will continue, and I would feel better if you stayed near the pavilion once the guests arrive.”

Sofia searches my face, hearing the concern beneath the request. She rests her hand briefly against my cheek, as she has done since I was a boy.

“I will be wherever I am needed,” she says. “Even when that is somewhere you would prefer I avoid.”

“I know, tetya.” Aunt.

Her expression softens as she gathers her place cards and leaves, the box held against her chest. Her floral perfume lingers after the door closes, a familiar comfort beside the image of an intruder crossing our woods.

“Put a man near her throughout the event,” I tell Drew. “She isn’t to know why.”

Reid’s mouth curves. “Sofia will identify him within ten minutes.”

“Then he has ten minutes to make himself useful.”

Drew pulls out his phone to make the call, following Reid and me as we head across the courtyard. The administration building overlooks the production yard from the opposite side. By the time we reach the conference room, the harvest lines are moving again, and the generator’s low vibration can be felt beneath the floor.

Reid places the emergency repair documents on the table beside six months of operating expenses. “The damaged line will be repaired by noon,” he says, opening his laptop. “The electrician recommends replacing the junction-box lock and extending the fence around it.”

“Approve both, then review every exterior utility connection on the property.”

Reid scrolls through the expense report while I examine the paperwork. The repair estimate contains no surprises, but an invoice several pages beneath it does.

Vintner Hospitality Logistics billed us eighteen thousand four hundred dollars for sanitizing production equipment six weeks ago. The abbreviated company name, VHL, pulls my attention back to Bellucci’s, where Connor described vendor names appearing across unrelated loan files.

“Who authorized this?” I ask.

Reid leans closer to read the invoice. “The cellar supervisor should have approved sanitation work, but this equipment hasn’t been used since last harvest.”

He calls the supervisor, who denies requesting the service or seeing a VHL crew. Reid opens the vendor account and searches the prior six months. Five more invoices appear, each below the amount requiring approval from either of us. Together, they exceed seventy thousand dollars.

“Every payment was divided to avoid senior review,” Reid says. He frowns as he opens the attached service logs. “The forms look complete. Department codes, electronic signatures, vendor insurance, and dates all match our records.”

“People expect an empire to be attacked with guns,” I tell him. “The first weapon is often paperwork.”

The Bratva often used false invoices and small payments to gain a foothold in legitimate businesses. A willing employee made it easier, but weak procedures worked almost as well. Once a fake vendor entered the system, no one questioned the payments that followed.

“Freeze every unpaid invoice connected to VHL,” I order. “Restrict the account so no employee can alter or remove the records, then begin a forensic review of every payment, service log, bank transfer, approval, and employee login associated with the company.”

“We should contact VHL and ask for supporting documents,” Reid says.

I close the report and rest my hand over it. “No one contacts them.”

Reid leans back in his chair. “If the company is legitimate, silence could delay an explanation.”

“If it’s not legitimate, contacting them warns the people behind it that we found the account.” I slide the report toward Reid. “I prefer that they continue believing it escaped our notice.”

He studies the first authorization form, tracing the signatures with his finger. “Vendor approval passed through purchasing, accounting, and production. Four employees signed portions of the file.”

“Remove their financial access until we know whether they were deceived, careless, or involved.” I gather the remaining documents into a neat stack.

Reid’s brow furrows. “Two of them have worked here for years and blocking them without proof will cause resentment.”

“If they’re innocent, the records will prove it.” I meet his gaze across the desk. “Until then, they don’t touch my money.”

Reid doesn’t argue, but the tension in his jaw tells me he disagrees. He values loyalty as much as I do, but when the company and our employees are at risk, I need facts. Trust is not enough.