The Viper Donna：Stepmother’s Mafia Justice Chapter 07
The Stolen Trust Fund
I found the receipts at two in the morning.
After the lockdown drill, the staff feared me enough not to stop me.
Elena’s office sat on the second floor of the west wing. She claimed it was only for household work.
I let myself in. Closed the door. Pulled every file from every drawer.
It took me three hours to understand it.
Dominic sent money home every month. A lot of money. Enough to raise two children in luxury, pay for their schools and fill their trust fund.
The trust was empty.
Every dollar had been moved out. Cash withdrawals. Card payments. Transfers to a name I did not know: Victor Salis.
I pulled up more. Credit card bills under Elena’s name. Fifty thousand at a casino in Atlantic City. Thirty thousand at a poker club in Manhattan. Eighty thousand sent to Salis in one month.
Victor Salis was her lover. He had been using the children’s money to cover gambling debts.
I sat back in Elena’s chair and stared at the numbers.
Leo didn’t have a winter coat. Mia’s shoes had cardboard stuffed inside to cover the holes.
These children were heirs to a fortune.
Elena had left them in old clothes while her boyfriend burned through their money at blackjack tables.
I didn’t call Dominic.
That was what a weak woman would do. Run crying to a man overseas, beg him to fix it, wait months for justice.
I was not weak.
By sunrise, I had a plan.
I called Danny Cho, a fixer from my Rossi days. He owed me for keeping his name out of a federal case.
“Danny. I need Moretti credit lines frozen. Everything Elena controls.”
“Whose?”
“Anything tied to Elena Moretti, her cards, her household accounts, and a man named Victor Salis.”
Silence. Then a low whistle. “You’re picking a dangerous fight, Sloane.”
“Good. Can you do it by noon?”
“Give me till ten.”
By nine forty-five, every Moretti account Elena controlled was locked. Her cards failed. Salis lost access. Three hidden accounts tied to family money were frozen.
At ten, I walked into her bedroom without knocking.
Elena was at her vanity, applying lipstick. She saw me in the mirror and her hand froze.
“Get out of my room.”
I dropped the files on her bed. Statements. Wire transfers. Photos of Salis at the casino with her money—Dominic’s money—stacked in front of him.
Elena turned slowly.
Her face drained.
“Where did you—”
“Three million dollars,” I said. “That’s what you stole from Leo and Mia’s trust. Three million. Gone. To your boyfriend’s poker habit.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the freeze notice. “Every Moretti dollar you touch is locked. Your cards won’t work. Your boyfriend cannot pull money from us anymore. It’s done.”
She stood up so fast her chair fell. “You can’t DO this—”
“Already did.”
“That money is MINE. I earned it. I raised those brats for years while Dominic was gone—”
“You starved them. You dressed them in rags. You let your son use Leo as a punching bag.” I stepped closer. “You didn’t earn a cent. You stole it.”
Elena grabbed her phone. She called the bank, and her face fell when the freeze was confirmed.
She tried another number. Then another.
Nothing worked.
She turned to me, shaking. Mascara already running.
“I’ll tell Dominic. I’ll tell him you’re stealing from the family—”
“Go ahead. Tell him. And when he asks for proof, I’ll show him these.” I tapped the files on her bed. “Every payment. Every lie. Every dollar you sent to a man outside this family.”
Her mouth opened. Closed.
“Oh, and Elena?” I picked up the velvet box on her nightstand. Opened it. A diamond necklace worth at least forty thousand. “This goes to a private auction today. So does everything else in your jewelry safe.”
“NO—”
“Consider it interest.” I tucked the box under my arm. “You owe those children three million. I intend to collect. Every ring. Every bracelet. Every pair of earrings you bought with their future.”
I walked to the door.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered.
I paused. Looked back.
“No, Elena. I’m their mother. And you just found out what that means.”
That afternoon, two men from a private auction house arrived for Elena’s jewelry. She locked herself in her room and screamed for an hour.
Nobody came to help her.
By evening, Leo had a new winter coat, Mia had boots that fit, and the trust account had its first deposit back.
It wasn’t enough. Not yet. But it was a start.
The next wound would not come from inside the mansion. It would come home on Leo’s shirt, in blood.
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