Chapter 2 - The Audit Trail
Inside the dim service corridor, Roman took a half-step closer to the partition. The low tremor in her voice had touched something cold and ancient behind his ribs.
"Who?" Roman asked flatly.
Natalie stared at the screen, her mind racing through the dangerous implications of the document before her. "It doesn't matter. It’s... hotel politics. You don't want to get involved, Daniel. Victoria has the entire administrative board in her pocket."
"Try me," Roman said. His tone was smooth, devoid of heat, yet carried an undeniable, magnetic weight that pulled the words right out of her.
Natalie leaned her shoulder against the panel, lowering her voice to an absolute whisper. "Three weeks ago, I found nearly eighty thousand dollars missing from the food and beverage accounts. The numbers didn't make sense. Someone was altering vendor invoices after the deliveries were already checked into the cold storage vaults."
Roman's eyes narrowed. His corporate security team audited the Harrington Grand's holding accounts every six months. If eighty thousand dollars had slipped through the primary ledgers, it meant someone inside his own executive structure was actively bypassing his security firewalls.
"Did you report it?" Roman asked.
"I brought the paper manifests straight to Victoria," Natalie whispered bitterly. "I thought I was helping. I thought she’d call corporate compliance. But she just sent me an updated report to submit to the board tonight before the gala starts."
"And?"
"She changed the narrative," Natalie said, a sharp wave of anger washing over her exhaustion. "She’s blaming Harold. Harold Bennett! The man has been here thirty-one years! He doesn't even know how to alter a digital PDF, let alone route eighty grand through fake vendor accounts!"
Roman picked up on the name instantly. Harold Bennett. He remembered the man—a quiet, gray-haired figure who always made sure Roman’s private suite was stocked with black coffee and pristine linen whenever he stayed at the hotel. Harold was an old-school worker, incapable of playing corporate games.
"Why Harold?" Roman asked quietly.
"Because he's retiring in six months," Natalie said, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "Because he doesn't have a corporate lawyer. Because he trusts Victoria when she hands him papers to sign at the end of a sixteen-hour double shift! If this report goes to the board tonight, they’ll fire him without a pension and hand him over to the police!"
"And what are you going to do?" Roman pressed, watching her shadow through the thin gap in the wall.
Natalie stood up straight, her tired posture suddenly locking into a wall of pure, stubborn defiance. She tucked her phone into her blazer pocket and grabbed her clipboard.
"I'm not submitting the report," she said flatly.
"If you refuse, Victoria will fire you before the orchestra finishes their first set," Roman pointed out coldly. "She'll submit it herself under your digital login, and you'll be dragged down with him."
Natalie paused, her hand resting on the brass door lever that led back out to the main ballroom floor.
"Then I guess I’m going to have to find the real receipts before seven o'clock," she murmured softly. "I'm not letting them destroy Harold. Not while I'm standing here."
She pulled the lever, stepping out into the blinding light of the ballroom before Roman could respond.
Roman remained standing in the dark corridor for a long, quiet minute. The faint scent of her floral perfume still lingered near the gap in the partition.
He pulled a sleek, custom black smartphone from his inner jacket pocket and pressed a speed-dial key. The line connected on the very first ring.
"Boss," a harsh, deep voice answered from the receiver. It was Marco, Roman’s chief of security and long-time enforcer.
"Marco," Roman said, his voice dropping into the terrifying, ice-cold register that made seasoned mob captains freeze in their tracks. "Where is the internal auditor we assigned to the Harrington Grand last month?"
"He’s at the private estate in Long Island, boss. Should I call him?"
"No," Roman said, looking at the empty service counter where Natalie’s clipboard had rested moments ago. "Bring him to my private office on the mezzanine level in twenty minutes. And Marco?"
"Yes, Mr. Duca?"
"Have my private tech team run a full digital trace on Victoria Crane’s personal and corporate bank accounts for the last ninety days. I want every invoice, every wire transfer, and every digital signature pulled from the hotel’s master mainframe immediately."
"Understood, boss. Is there a security breach?"
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Roman looked through the gap in the panel, catching a glimpse of Natalie across the vast ballroom floor as she calmly instructed two caterers on how to align the silver champagne buckets.
"There is a rat in my house," Roman said softly, his grey eyes turning to ice. "And she’s about to find out what happens when you steal from Roman Duca."
