Chapter 18 - The Deposition
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At 9:00 a.m. the following morning, Vivian Rinaldi sat inside a windowless conference room at the Federal Building in Lower Manhattan.
Across the table sat three federal prosecutors, two FBI special agents, and a court stenographer.
"State your full name for the record," the lead prosecutor instructed.
"Vivian Marie Rinaldi," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Miss Rinaldi, do you understand that you are under oath, and that any false statements made today will result in immediate perjury charges?"
"I understand."
For the next four hours, Vivian laid bare the inner workings of the Moretti crime syndicate. She detailed how Don Antonio Moretti used legitimate construction businesses to wash money from illegal gambling and extortion. She explained the complex web of offshore accounts Elena had discovered.
Finally, the prosecutor leaned in. "Let's turn to the events of November 9th. Why did you enter the Moretti penthouse at 4:41 p.m.?"
Vivian took a shaky breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"I knew Elena was building a file on the company," Vivian testified, staring at the table. "I printed out the most damaging financial records from my own files, used my master keycard, and placed them in an open folder on her study desk."
"Why?"
"Because I knew Matteo was coming home early," Vivian admitted, her voice trembling. "I knew his temper. I knew if he saw those papers, he would assume she was betraying him. I wanted him to destroy her credibility... or destroy her."
"And did you foresee that he would physically assault his pregnant wife?"
Vivian swallowed hard, tears finally leaking down her cheeks. "I knew he was capable of it. And I didn't care."
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The lead prosecutor nodded slowly, gesturing to the court reporter. "Let the record reflect the witness has confirmed intent to manipulate a violent confrontation."
With those words signed into the record, the legal fate of the Moretti empire was sealed forever.
