Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO SIGNED THE ORDERS|
At sunrise, Dominic stood alone in his private office, staring at a photograph of Elena.
She was smiling in the picture, her dark hair blowing across her face as Noah, then five years old, clung to her waist.
Dominic had kept the photograph beside his desk since the funeral.
Now, for the first time, he wondered whether he had been grieving the right things.
His marriage had been happy, or so he had believed. Elena had been warm, stubborn, and endlessly patient with their son. She had also been the only person who could tell Dominic when his work had begun swallowing the rest of his life.
“You can't protect a family you never come home to,” she had once told him.
He had kissed her forehead and promised to do better.
Three months later, she was gone.
And Dominic had buried himself in work again.
Vanessa had entered his life during that period, first as a friend of Elena's charity committee and later as the woman who seemed capable of organizing a household that had fallen apart.
He had mistaken competence for kindness.
Now he opened the system report Marcus had left on his desk.
The remote interruption had been issued through a terminal registered to his office. But the credentials belonged to Adrian Moretti, Dominic's younger brother, who had died in a highway accident three years earlier.
The same brother who had helped Dominic build the family business.
The same brother whose death had occurred six weeks before Elena's.
Two losses in less than two months.
Dominic had never investigated either death beyond what the authorities required. He had been too devastated, too busy keeping the business from collapsing, and too grateful to Vanessa for helping him manage everything at home.
He called Marcus.
“Find out whether Adrian's credentials were ever formally revoked.”
“They were supposed to be,” Marcus replied. “I'm checking the archived system.”
“Also, I want every visitor log from the night Elena died.”
There was a pause.
“Sir, those records were sealed under the family security protocol.”
“I know. Open them.”
“Your father authorized the restriction.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
His father, Vincent Moretti, had died the previous winter. For decades, Vincent had run the family's criminal empire with ruthless discipline. Dominic had inherited the business, the enemies, and the obligation to keep both under control.
He had also inherited his father's belief that certain truths were safer buried.
“Open the records,” Dominic repeated.
An hour later, Lily found him sitting in the kitchen, untouched coffee beside him.
Noah was asleep upstairs under the protection of a security officer.
Lily approached cautiously.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Dominic,” he said. “At least when we're talking about my son.”
She sat across from him.
“I should tell you something about the drawings.”
He looked up.
“When Noah first showed them to me, I thought they were ordinary nightmares. I didn't know about the exterior lock until yesterday.”
“Why did you keep them?”
“Because he asked me to.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“What exactly did he say?”
Lily looked toward the window.
“He told me that if he threw the drawings away, he was afraid he'd forget what happened. And if he forgot, he wouldn't be able to prove that he wasn't making it up.”
Dominic shut his eyes.
An eight-year-old child had been collecting evidence against the adults in his own home.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Four months.”
“Why did you take this job?”
“My mother needed expensive treatment. The agency offered a position with room and board, and the salary was enough to cover her care.”
“Vanessa knew that?”
“Yes.”
Dominic studied her.
“Did she ever use it against you?”
Lily hesitated.
“She told me that if I caused trouble, she would make sure the agency never hired me again.”
He looked down at his coffee.
“I owe you an apology.”
She seemed startled.
“Sir?”
“I built a house where my son was afraid to speak and where an employee was afraid to report it. I was too busy to notice either.”
Lily's expression softened, but she didn't rush to absolve him.
“Then notice now.”
The words landed harder than an accusation.
Before Dominic could respond, his phone rang.
Marcus had found the archived records.
Elena's car had been reported missing from the family garage at 8:12 p.m. on the night of her death. The official police report stated that she had left the estate alone and lost control of the vehicle during a storm.
But the security log showed a different timeline.
At 7:46 p.m., a second vehicle had entered through the service gate.
At 8:03 p.m., it had left.
The vehicle belonged to Adrian.
At 8:12 p.m., Elena's car had departed.
At 9:17 p.m., the police received the first emergency call.
Dominic stared at the sequence.
“Who called it in?”
“An anonymous caller,” Marcus replied. “The number was untraceable.”
“And Adrian's vehicle?”
“Found at his house the following morning. He claimed he'd been home all evening.”
Dominic felt his pulse hammering.
“Why wasn't this in the original report?”
“Your father requested a separate internal review. The file was sealed before the review was completed.”
Dominic looked at Elena's photograph again.
“What was the conclusion?”
“We don't know yet.”
Then Marcus added, “There's something else. Vanessa's name appears in the visitor log for that night.”
Dominic went silent.
“How?”
“She entered the estate at 7:51 p.m. and left at 8:19 p.m.”
Vanessa had told Dominic she hadn't seen Elena that evening.
He remembered the conversation vividly because Elena had been planning a surprise birthday dinner for him.
Vanessa had been the one who called to say the dinner had been canceled.
Dominic stood so abruptly that his chair scraped across the floor.
“Where is she?”
“Her suite.”
“Bring her to the library.”
He found Vanessa dressed for the day, her face composed, a cup of tea in her hand.
“You look exhausted,” she said. “Perhaps we should postpone this discussion until you're calmer.”
“Where were you the night Elena died?”
Her teacup stopped halfway to her mouth.
“What?”
“You entered my house at 7:51 p.m. Why?”
“I came to speak with her.”
“About what?”
“Nothing important.”
“Then why did you tell me you hadn't seen her?”
Vanessa put down the cup.
“Dominic, this is cruel.”
“Cruel is making an eight-year-old believe his father wants him locked away.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You don't understand what happened in this house.”
“Then explain it.”
For a moment, she looked almost willing.
Then her gaze shifted to the photograph of Elena.
“I was trying to help you.”
“By locking my son in his bedroom?”
“By making sure he didn't destroy everything you were trying to rebuild!”
Dominic went still.
Vanessa realized what she'd said.
She drew a shaky breath.
“You were drowning after Elena died. Noah was having problems. You were barely sleeping. I thought structure would help.”
“Structure?”
“He screamed. He threw things. He demanded you come home. Every time you left, he accused me of stealing his father.”
“And you punished him for missing me?”
“I was trying to keep this family together!”
Dominic stepped closer.
“You were trying to make him stop telling the truth.”
Vanessa's face crumpled for a second before anger replaced the expression.
“You want the truth? Fine. Elena was going to leave you.”
Dominic stared.
“What?”
“She had spoken to a lawyer. She wanted to take Noah and move out of the country.”
“That's a lie.”
“Ask your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“Yes,” Vanessa whispered. “And he made sure the papers disappeared.”
Dominic felt the floor shift beneath him.
Before he could speak, the library door opened.
Marcus entered carrying an envelope recovered from the old security archive.
“Sir, we found this inside a locked cabinet. It was addressed to you, but it was never delivered.”
The envelope bore Elena's handwriting.
Dominic took it with shaking fingers.
Inside was a single page.
Dominic, if anything happens to me, don't trust the story they tell you. I found the missing financial records, and Adrian knows where they are. Your father says I should keep quiet for Noah's sake, but silence is exactly what they are counting on.
At the bottom, Elena had added one final line.
Ask Lily Bennett what she saw the night the ambulance came.
Dominic looked up.
Lily stood frozen in the doorway.
She had gone completely pale.
“Lily?” he asked. “What happened the night Elena died?”
Her lips parted.
“I was sixteen,” she whispered. “I wasn't working here. I was visiting my aunt, who was a nurse at the private clinic.”
“What did you see?”
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
“I saw Mrs. Moretti arrive alive.”
Dominic couldn't move.
“She was alive when they brought her in,” Lily continued. “But the medical report said she died before she reached the hospital.”
She looked at the letter in his hand.
“And before she disappeared behind the treatment-room doors, she grabbed my aunt's wrist and said five words.”
Dominic's voice was barely audible.
“What five words?”
May you like
Lily looked directly at him.
“Tell Dominic his brother is alive.”
