Chapter 6 - The Billionaire's First Real Fight
I called Michael before leaving the hospital.
"Freeze every account connected to Vincent Moretti."
"Sir?"
"Every subsidiary, every trust, every private investment vehicle. I want a complete audit."
"That could affect several major business operations."
"I don't care."
"Your father still has controlling authority over some of the family foundation's older assets."
"Then remove it."
There was a pause.
"Do you have evidence of misconduct?"
I looked through the hospital window.
Emma was sleeping.
Oliver was curled beside her, one small hand resting on her blanket.
"I will."
I ended the call.
Within twenty-four hours, my legal team had discovered that my father had quietly transferred more than $80 million through charitable trusts over six years.
Some payments had gone to medical facilities.
Others had gone to private security companies.
A handful had gone to businesses connected to Sophia.
The most disturbing payments were linked to a shell company called Northbridge Holdings.
Northbridge had purchased three properties near Claire's old apartment.
One had been used as a private surveillance office.
Another had been rented under a false identity by a man named Robert Kline.
Kline had worked for my father for nearly twenty years.
I ordered Michael to find him.
Meanwhile, I returned to the hospital every morning.
I didn't demand access to the children.
I didn't bring expensive gifts.
I simply waited.
On the third day, Oliver spotted me through the glass.
He tugged Claire's sleeve.
"Mommy, the serious man is here again."
Claire looked toward the hallway.
Our eyes met.
She hesitated.
Then she walked outside.
"Why are you still here?"
"Because Emma is here."
"You don't have to sit in a hospital corridor to prove something."
"I'm not proving anything."
She crossed her arms.
"Then what are you doing?"
"Learning how to stay."
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she looked away.
"Oliver wants to know why you look like him."
My chest tightened.
"What did you tell him?"
"That people can look alike."
"Can I answer him myself?"
She shook her head.
"Not yet."
I nodded.
"I understand."
"No, Alexander. You don't. You think this is a matter of waiting a few days and earning everyone's trust. But Oliver has nightmares when someone raises their voice. Emma cries whenever she hears a car door slam. They have routines, fears, and memories that existed long before you appeared."
I lowered my head.
"Then tell me how to help."
She studied my face.
"Start by not making their lives harder."
"I can do that."
Before she could respond, a nurse approached.
"Mrs. Hayes, the doctor is ready to discuss Emma's procedure."
Claire hurried away.
I stayed behind.
An hour later, the doctor came out.
"The procedure is possible, but we'd prefer to have her evaluated by a specialist in Boston."
"Arrange it," I said.
Claire turned.
"Alexander—"
"I'll cover the travel and medical expenses. No conditions. No paperwork requiring you to surrender control. You can have your own attorney review everything."
She stared at me.
"Why?"
I looked at the room.
"Because she deserves the best chance."
For once, Claire didn't argue.
The following morning, Emma was transferred to Boston.
I arranged a private medical flight, but Claire refused to let me accompany them.
I accepted her decision.
Instead, I flew commercially the next day and checked into a hotel near the hospital.
I arrived with no security entourage.
No assistants.
No expensive gifts.
Just a small stuffed rabbit I had bought at the airport.
When I entered the pediatric waiting room, Oliver was sitting beside Claire.
He looked at the rabbit.
"Is that for Emma?"
"Yes."
He examined it.
"She likes rabbits."
"I hoped she would."
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he asked, "Are you Daniel's friend?"
I almost smiled.
"Not exactly."
"Are you Mommy's friend?"
I looked at Claire.
"Not anymore."
Oliver frowned.
"Then why do you come here?"
I crouched so we were at the same height.
"Because I care about your sister."
He studied me.
"Do you know my daddy?"
My throat tightened.
"Daniel?"
He nodded.
I could have told him the truth.
I could have explained genetics, marriage, and the terrible decisions I had made.
But a four-year-old child didn't need to carry the weight of my guilt.
"I know Daniel," I said.
"He's nice."
"Yes. He is."
"He's the one who comes when we're scared."
I swallowed.
"That's a good thing."
Oliver hugged the stuffed rabbit.
Then he surprised me.
"Maybe you can be nice too."
I felt something break inside my chest.
"I'll try, buddy."
He immediately looked toward his mother.
"Mommy, can he sit with us?"
Claire's face changed.
She didn't say yes.
But she didn't say no.
I sat in the chair opposite them.
For the first time, I was allowed to share a waiting room with my son.
It wasn't much.
But it was more than I deserved.
That evening, Michael called.
"Sir, we found Robert Kline."
"Where?"
"He's been staying at a private residence outside Chicago."
"Bring him in."
"We have a problem."
"What?"
"Someone reached him before our team did."
I stood.
"Who?"
"He's dead, sir."
My blood turned cold.
"How?"
"His car was found burning in an underground parking garage."
I closed my eyes.
My father was eliminating witnesses.
Then Michael continued.
"We recovered something from his apartment."
"What?"
"A storage drive."
"What's on it?"
"We haven't accessed everything yet, but there's a video file dated the morning Claire left your house."
My heart began pounding.
"Send it to me."
A few minutes later, the file arrived.
I opened it.
The footage showed a hallway outside my former bedroom.
Claire was standing near the door, holding her purse.
She was crying.
A voice came from inside the room.
Mine.
"I don't want children, Claire. I never did."
Then another voice.
A man's voice.
My father's.
"Good. Now sign the papers and leave."
I froze.
The recording continued.
Claire whispered, "Please don't tell him."
My father answered.
"He'll never know."
I replayed the last few seconds.
Claire hadn't been speaking to me.
She had been speaking to my father.
Then the video shifted to another camera angle.
A figure appeared at the far end of the corridor.
A woman.
She approached Claire and slipped a small envelope into her hand.
Claire looked up.
The camera caught the woman's face.
I stopped breathing.
It was Sophia.
And she wasn't carrying a handbag.
May you like
She was carrying a hospital file.
A file bearing the name of my unborn children.
