17kNovel

Font: Big Medium Small
Dark Eye-protection
17kNovel > One Night Stand With My Ex's Billionaire Enemy > Chapter 257 Mira: Fraud, Scam, Money Down the Drain

Chapter 257 Mira: Fraud, Scam, Money Down the Drain

    <h4>Chapter 257: Chapter 257 Mira: Fraud, Scam, Money Down the Drain</h4>


    Inspector Silva clearly wasn’t the chatty type.


    He skipped straight to business once he realised I wasn’t in the mood for niceties.


    He handed me a file. ‘I must ask you to keep everything you’re about to read strictly confidential. Especially from Monsieur Marchetti—’


    ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it,’ I said, waving a hand. ‘Not a word from me.’


    The file was in French. With my sad excuse for French skills, I had to use a trantion app to even start understanding it. Silva didn’t offer to help. He just sat there watching me wrestle with it like it was some kind of sadistic test.


    The more I read, the worse it got. For a second, I hoped the app was malfunctioning and spitting out nonsense.


    But I wasn’t that lucky.


    I gged down a waiter and asked for the strongest coffee they had. I needed something industrial-strength.


    ‘If you’ve got this much evidence,’ I said eventually, my voice sounding oddly detached, ‘why haven’t you just arrested him?’


    If the file was urate—and it certainly looked it—Fabrizio wasn’t just fiddling the books. He was siphoning funds from other investors and running thepany straight into the ground. Turns out, being a design genius doesn’t make you a business genius.


    The headache behind my eyes was back and getting worse by the second.


    Inspector Silva’s voice, like his beige jacket, was dull but carried weight. The kind of tone that came from knowing people always listened when you spoke.


    ‘We’ve had Monsieur Marchetti under surveince. He’s not a flight risk—for now. He’s been desperately seeking investors and fresh capital to keep thepany afloat. If he manages to pull that off, no one will realise anything’s wrong. Not until the new investors start asking for dividends. But then you arrived.’


    He gave me a look that was polite on the surface but full of judgment.


    My spine stiffened. ‘What did I do?’


    ‘You gave him the capital he needed.’


    I thought of the joint venture. ‘Didn’t you say that kind of cash injection could save thepany?’


    ‘It could, if he used it to pay down overdue loans or repay the money he’s already misappropriated. But he didn’t.’


    ‘So what did he do with my money?’


    Silva flipped through the file and pointed to a page with a string of numbers. ‘Did he ask you to transfer the funds to this ount?’


    I looked. ‘Yes. What’s wrong with it?’


    ‘It’s not a corporate ount. It’s not even in his name. It belongs to a shellpany, supposedly legitimate, butpletely empty. The bank and thepany are both registered in the Cook Inds.’


    My stomach dropped. ‘Meaning?’


    ‘Meaning, he’s nning to disappear. The Cook Inds have no extradition treaty with us. Once he’s there, he’s untouchable. So’s the money.’


    Five million euros, gone.


    No wonder he’d pushed so hard for the joint venture. I thought he was passionate about our coboration. Turns out, I’m just a soft touch with deep pockets.


    ‘Is he still in town?’


    ‘Yes.’


    ‘Then why the hell haven’t you arrested him?’


    ‘Because he’s not nning to bolt just yet. He’s contacted several potential investors—people like you, who’ve heard of his name but don’t know what’s really going on—and he’s drawing them in, slowly. You’re the first to fall for his so-called joint venture, which is nothing more than a scam. We believe he’ll run once he’s pulled in around fifty million.’


    My throat was dry and my hands were twitching from the caffeine and rising fury. ‘If you knew he was scamming me, why didn’t you warn me sooner?’


    ‘We didn’t know for sure until he asked you to transfer funds to that ount. We needed to confirm where the money went. We’re sorry.’


    He didn’t sound remotely sorry.


    ‘Can I get my money back?’


    ‘Possibly. But not until the investigation isplete and he’s been formally charged and convicted.’


    I wanted to call Fabrizio right then and there, demand answers, demand my money. But what good would that do? He’d know I knew, and he’d run.


    ‘So what exactly am I supposed to do now?’


    ‘You and Monsieur Marchetti appear to be close. We’d like—’


    I cut him off with a re. ‘What are you trying to imply?’


    He raised a hand in mock surrender. ‘I’m not implying anything improper. Just that he’s rxed around you, speaks freely. We haven’t yet traced all the funds he’s misappropriated. If we can find out where they’ve gone, it’ll strengthen the case. Make it harder for him to wriggle out of the charges.’


    I snorted. ‘Why don’t you bug his office and t, then? I’m sure the French police have gear for that.’


    Unbothered, Silva replied, ‘Madame Vance seems to have a cinematic view of police work. We can’t wiretap a suspect’s premises without a court order. There are procedures.’


    ‘Sounds like a “you” problem.’ I stood. ‘I’ve got thinking to do. Goodbye.’


    ‘We were hoping you’d help us.’


    ‘Help you how? I can’t even help myself.’


    I was already turning over ideas. How could I confront Fabrizio and get the money back without tipping him off? If he sensed I knew, he’d vanish. Simple as that.


    I thought of calling Ashton—but he’d only ask why I hadn’t told him sooner, why I didn’t talk to him before investing, and probably follow it with, ‘Told you so. Never trusted that prick.’


    ‘As I said, the money’s likely gone through severalyers of ounts andnded in a foreign jurisdiction. We’ll have to convince them to return it, which is never easy. If they do, it’ll sit with our state’s asset management office while the legal dust settles.’


    The pressure in my skull was turning into a full-blown migraine. ‘Just say it. The money’s gone.’


    ‘Ordinarily, yes. But... there may be ways to shortcut the process.’


    ‘How?’


    He gestured to the empty chair.


    I sat, shoulders stiff.


    ‘Monsieur Marchetti has several personal ounts within our jurisdiction. We can freeze them. Once he’s convicted, those funds could be redistributed to victims. Who’s to say the money you gave him wasn’t part of what’s in those ounts?’


    I narrowed my eyes. ‘You’re saying you can refund my five mil out of his personal stash?’


    He nodded. ‘It’s... unconventional. If the irregrity’s discovered, there will be consequences. I could be reprimanded or suspended. Which is why I’d only consider it for someone who’s been significantly helpful to the case.’


    ‘So if I don’t y ball, I can kiss my money goodbye. That’s what you are saying.’


    He leaned back, the barest twitch of a smirk appearing. ‘I believe the phrase is, “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”’


    It didn’t take me long to decide.


    ‘What do you need me to do?’
『Add To Library for easy reading』
Popular recommendations
The Wrong Woman The Day I Kissed An Older Man Meet My Brothers Even After Death A Ruthless Proposition Wired (Buchanan-Renard #13)