Chapter 5 - The Ghost Behind the Moretti EmpireVincent's father had been dead for eleven years.
At least, that was what everyone in Chicago believed.
Antonio Moretti had supposedly died in a boating accident on Lake Michigan.
His body was never recovered.
The police found wreckage, blood, and a watch engraved with his initials.
Vincent had buried an empty coffin.
He had inherited the businesses.
He had taken control of the family.
And he had spent eleven years believing his father was gone.
Now a stranger stood in Sophia's kitchen claiming Antonio had sent him.
Vincent stared at the weapon.
“Put that away.”
The man hesitated.
“I'm not here to hurt you.”
“Then stop pointing a gun around a civilian apartment.”
The stranger lowered it and placed it inside his jacket.
“My name is Gabriel Ward.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Someone who wants you alive.”
Vincent looked toward Sophia.
She was trembling.
“Did you know about this?”
“No,” she whispered.
Gabriel took an envelope from his coat.
Inside was a photograph.
Antonio Moretti sat in a wheelchair beside a window overlooking the sea.
His hair was white.
His face was thinner.
But Vincent recognized him instantly.
His father.
The man who taught him to tie a necktie.
The man who never hugged him in public.
The man who had once told him that loving someone was the fastest way to become weak.
Vincent's hands tightened around the photograph.
“Where is he?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I can't tell you yet.”
“Then you've wasted your time.”
“Your father sent a message.”
Vincent waited.
Gabriel said, “The money moving through Sterling Harbor is not Sophia's money. Someone is using her company to access assets Antonio hid before his disappearance.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Who?”
“We believe Adrian Vale is involved.”
“Adrian is missing.”
“Because the people controlling him are cleaning up their tracks.”
Vincent glanced toward Sophia.
“Is she part of it?”
Gabriel did not answer immediately.
“That depends on how much she knew.”
Sophia sank onto the couch.
“I didn't know about Antonio.”
Gabriel studied her.
“But you knew about the transfers.”
She began crying.
Vincent no longer felt moved by her tears.
He had seen them too many times.
At Daniel's house, I was preparing Emma's dinner when Rebecca called.
“Claire, Vincent's attorney just informed me that someone approached him with information about Antonio Moretti.”
I stopped chopping carrots.
“Vincent's father?”
“Yes.”
“He's dead.”
“Apparently, that may not be true.”
I sat down.
For years, Vincent had spoken about his father with a strange mixture of admiration and resentment.
Antonio had built the Moretti organization from a small trucking company into an empire of legitimate businesses and criminal interests.
He had also ruled his family through fear.
Vincent once told me that Antonio never forgave mistakes.
Not even childhood ones.
I had never liked the stories.
But I had loved the man who survived them.
“Why would Antonio disappear?” I asked.
“That's what everyone wants to know.”
Rebecca paused.
“There's something else. The disputed transfers may be connected to assets Antonio concealed years ago.”
“Why would my signature be needed?”
“We're investigating that.”
I stared toward the living room.
Emma was building a castle out of plastic blocks.
“Rebecca, I don't want my daughter dragged into a war over money.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then tell me what we can do.”
“We continue pursuing the divorce and temporary parenting arrangements. We keep Emma's records secure. And we let the authorities investigate anything criminal.”
I nodded.
Then realized Rebecca couldn't see me.
“Okay.”
The next morning, Vincent appeared outside the family courthouse.
He had come for a hearing concerning temporary parenting arrangements.
I arrived with Rebecca.
He approached slowly.
“Claire.”
I stopped several feet away.
He looked terrible.
His eyes were bloodshot.
There was a small cut along his jaw.
“Are you hurt?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“I'm fine.”
I regretted the question immediately.
Vincent glanced toward Rebecca.
“Can I have a moment?”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
We remained in the courthouse hallway, within sight of the attorneys.
Vincent spoke quietly.
“My father may be alive.”
“I heard.”
“I don't know what that means yet.”
“Neither do I.”
He swallowed.
“Claire, I need you to understand something. Sophia told me she had a son. I thought there was a chance I'd abandoned a child without knowing it.”
I studied his face.
“And that made it acceptable to abandon Emma?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“No,” he repeated. “Nothing made that acceptable.”
For a moment, I saw the man I had married.
Then he said, “I want to make this right.”
I shook my head.
“You can't fix a night in the hospital by saying you're sorry.”
“I know.”
“Emma asked if you were angry with her because she got sick.”
His expression collapsed.
I had never seen Vincent Moretti look so small.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
He pressed a hand against his mouth.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
Then he whispered, “God.”
I watched him struggle.
Part of me wanted to comfort him.
That had been my role for seven years.
To soften his guilt.
To make his mistakes easier to carry.
But I didn't move.
His pain belonged to him.
Emma's belonged to both of us.
The temporary hearing lasted nearly two hours.
Rebecca presented the hospital records, communication logs, and evidence of Vincent's repeated absences.
Samuel acknowledged that Vincent had failed to respond appropriately during Emma's medical emergency but argued that he had otherwise maintained a loving relationship with his daughter.
The judge listened carefully.
She ordered a temporary parenting schedule that began with short, supervised visits while the family underwent further evaluation.
She also prohibited either parent from removing Emma from Illinois without proper authorization.
Vincent accepted the order.
Outside the courtroom, he approached me again.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“Not trying to keep her from me completely.”
I looked at him.
“Emma deserves a father who shows up, Vincent. Whether you become that man is your decision.”
He nodded.
Then his phone vibrated.
He looked down.
His expression changed.
“What?” I asked.
He turned the screen toward me.
An unknown number had sent a photograph.
It showed Emma outside Daniel's house.
The image had been taken that morning.
Beneath it were six words.
Tell Claire to stop asking questions.
My blood turned to ice.
Vincent immediately called his security director.
But I was already reaching for Rebecca.
May you like
Because someone had just threatened my daughter.
And for the first time, Vincent and I were afraid of the same thing.
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