Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO KNEW HER BEFORE SHE KNEW HIM
“My father has been dead for ten years.”
Lydia spoke the words slowly, carefully, as though the stranger sitting across from her had misunderstood something fundamental about her life.
Cassian Moretti said nothing.
The limousine glided through Manhattan while rain hammered its armored windows. Lydia could hear the soft ticking of a mechanical clock somewhere near the center console. The air smelled of leather, whiskey, and the expensive cologne she had already begun associating with danger.
“My father was an accountant,” she continued. “He died in a car accident with my mother. I was seventeen. Whatever you think he did, you're mistaken.”
“No,” Cassian said. “I'm not.”
Lydia tightened her grip on her cane.
“Then explain.”
Cassian looked toward the front of the vehicle.
“Mateo. Privacy screen.”
A partition rose silently between the rear compartment and the driver.
Lydia heard the motor and immediately stiffened.
“Don't do that.”
Cassian pressed the button again. The partition descended.
“Better?”
“No. But at least now I know you're capable of listening.”
Something almost resembling a smile touched his mouth.
Ten years.
He had imagined hearing her voice again thousands of times.
He had never imagined she would be sitting across from him, furious, frightened, and completely unaware of the role he had played in destroying her family.
“Your father's name was Daniel Hayes,” Cassian began. “He worked as a forensic accountant for a private financial firm. But his most important client wasn't listed on any official document.”
“Who was it?”
“My father. Alessandro Moretti.”
Lydia felt the blood drain from her face.
She knew the Moretti name.
Everyone in New York knew it.
The newspapers called the family real estate investors. The television networks called them suspected organized-crime figures. People who lived in neighborhoods where Moretti businesses operated called them something else entirely.
Untouchable.
“You're Cassian Moretti,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She reached for the door handle.
“Stop the car.”
“Lydia—”
“Stop the damn car!”
Cassian leaned forward.
“If I stop this vehicle, Romano's men will find you.”
“And if I stay, I'm trapped with a criminal who knows my address, my name, and apparently everything about my father!”
He absorbed the accusation without flinching.
“You're right to be afraid of me.”
The admission surprised her.
“But right now,” he continued, “I'm the only person who knows why they want you.”
“Then tell me.”
Cassian hesitated.
Daniel Hayes had spent seven years maintaining the Moretti family's legitimate accounts while secretly documenting the movement of money through shell companies, political campaigns, and offshore trusts.
Eventually, Daniel discovered something far worse than financial crimes.
A network of payments connected to disappearances, corrupt officials, and the systematic destruction of witnesses.
“He wanted out,” Cassian said. “He planned to turn everything over to federal investigators.”
Lydia shook her head.
“My father would have told us.”
“He was trying to protect you.”
“People keep saying that when they don't want to tell the truth.”
Cassian looked down at his hands.
“He hid evidence before he died. Vincent Romano believes you know where it is.”
“I don't.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why did his men come to my apartment?”
“Because they don't.”
Lydia's breathing grew uneven.
She remembered the accident in fragments: the smell of gasoline, shattered glass against her cheek, her mother's scream.
Then darkness.
Permanent darkness.
“Was it really an accident?” she asked.
Cassian closed his eyes briefly.
“No.”
The single syllable seemed to hollow out the entire vehicle.
Lydia pressed her palm against her mouth.
For ten years she had believed a truck driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel.
For ten years she had accepted the police report, the insurance settlement, the funeral.
For ten years she had blamed herself because she had begged her parents to take her to a concert that evening.
“You're lying,” she whispered.
“I wish I were.”
“Who killed them?”
Cassian did not answer.
Lydia understood the silence.
“Your family.”
“My father's organization.”
“That's the same thing.”
“It was.”
She turned away.
“Did you know?”
Cassian stared at the rain.
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than any confession he could have offered.
Lydia's voice became dangerously quiet.
“How long?”
“Since the night it happened.”
She reached across the space between them and slapped him.
The sound cracked through the limousine.
From the front seat, Mateo immediately turned.
“Boss?”
“Drive,” Cassian ordered.
Lydia's hand trembled.
“You knew my parents were murdered. You knew I lost my sight. And you let me spend ten years believing it was an accident?”
Cassian did not touch his reddening cheek.
“I made a promise to your father.”
“Don't you dare use him to justify this.”
“He asked me to keep you alive.”
“Then why didn't you tell me the truth?”
“Because the people who killed him were still watching.”
“And you weren't?”
Cassian had no answer.
The limousine turned sharply.
Mateo's voice came through the intercom.
“We have a problem.”
Cassian pressed the speaker.
“What?”
“Two vehicles behind us. Black Escalades. No plates.”
Cassian's expression changed.
“Lose them.”
“We're trying.”
A violent impact slammed into the rear of the Maybach.
Lydia screamed as her shoulder struck the door.
Cassian caught her before the second collision.
“Get down!”
Gunfire erupted outside.
The armored windows shuddered beneath repeated impacts.
Lydia curled against the leather seat, covering her ears.
Cassian reached beneath his jacket and drew his pistol.
“Mateo, where's the second escort vehicle?”
“Three blocks back. Traffic's locked.”
Another impact.
The Maybach swerved.
A tire burst somewhere behind them.
“Boss,” the driver shouted, “they're forcing us toward the tunnel!”
Cassian looked through the rear window.
One Escalade accelerated alongside them.
Its passenger window lowered.
A man raised a compact rifle.
Cassian shoved Lydia to the floor.
The rifle opened fire.
The limousine's side window fractured into a dense white spiderweb but held.
Then Lydia heard something that made her forget the gunfire.
A man's voice shouting from the other vehicle.
“Don't shoot the girl! Vincent wants her alive!”
Cassian's jaw tightened.
He had expected an assassination attempt.
He had not expected the next words.
“Kill Moretti! Bring Daniel Hayes's daughter to her mother!”
Lydia slowly raised her head.
“What did he say?”
Cassian stared at her.
Outside, the second Escalade rammed the limousine again.
Lydia grabbed his wrist.
“Cassian.”
Her voice broke.
May you like
“What did that man mean by my mother?”
And for the first time that night, Cassian Moretti looked genuinely afraid.
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