Dominic Moretti had spent his life surviving men who wanted his empire.
He had never considered that someone might steal it by convincing him he was already dead.
Within an hour, Dr. Enrico Falcone was standing in Dominic’s study.
Falcone looked furious.
“I have never heard of Samuel Kessler.”
Marco placed the access logs on the desk.
“Someone using his credentials viewed Dominic’s records.”
Falcone read them.
“This is impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
Dominic remained still.
“Did you personally review my scan?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
Falcone hesitated.
Dominic noticed.
“What?”
“The preliminary interpretation came from radiology.”
“Who signed it?”
Falcone looked at Marco’s file.
“Kessler.”
Marco swore under his breath.
Falcone frowned.
“But I saw abnormalities myself.”
“Could they mean something else?”
“Yes.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Then why did you say six weeks?”
“Because the imaging and blood markers aligned.”
“Blood markers can be manipulated?”
Falcone’s face changed.
“Potentially.”
Silence.
Dominic said, “Test me again.”
“We’ll do it tonight.”
“No outside lab.”
“My own hands.”
Falcone left.
Valentina had been listening from the hallway.
Dominic discovered her after the front door closed.
“You’re supposed to be upstairs.”
“You might not die?”
He stared at her.
“We don’t know.”
Her eyes filled.
“But maybe?”
He crouched.
“Maybe.”
Valentina threw her arms around his neck.
“Then we have to find out.”
He held her.
“Yes.”
That night, Falcone drew fresh blood, ordered independent imaging through a private facility, and personally escorted every sample.
Results would take forty-eight hours.
Dominic hated waiting.
Valentina hated it more.
So she created rules.
“No talking about dying at breakfast.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“You’re making rules in my house?”
“Our house.”
He stared.
She folded her arms.
He surrendered.
“Fine.”
“No phones during dinner.”
“That’s unreasonable.”
“You have seventeen phones.”
“I have two.”
“It feels like seventeen.”
Marco laughed.
Dominic glared.
“And,” Valentina continued, “you have to do one thing every day that you’ve never done.”
Dominic looked suspicious.
“Why?”
“Because you wasted three years being sad.”
The room went silent.
Mrs. Alvarez nearly dropped a plate.
Dominic stared at Valentina.
Anyone else would have regretted those words.
Valentina simply ate her cereal.
Finally Dominic asked, “What exactly do you propose?”
“Today, ice skating.”
“I don’t skate.”
“That’s why it counts.”
Two hours later, Manhattan received the extraordinary sight of Dominic Moretti clinging to the railing of a private rink while a seven-year-old laughed so hard she could barely stand.
Marco recorded three seconds.
Dominic threatened him.
Valentina demanded the video.
For an afternoon, death became distant.
Then the call came.
Anthony had been spotted.
Brooklyn.
Near an abandoned warehouse once owned by Gabriel Moretti.
Dominic’s joy disappeared instantly.
He left Valentina with Lucia and Mrs. Alvarez.
“Where are you going?”
“Business.”
“Dangerous business?”
He hesitated.
“Possibly.”
Valentina grabbed his sleeve.
“You promised not to waste days.”
“I remember.”
“Then come back.”
The simple demand hit harder than any threat.
“I will.”
At the warehouse, Dominic found Anthony alone.
At least apparently.
Anthony stood near a metal table surrounded by old files.
“You should have run farther,” Dominic said.
Anthony looked exhausted.
“I’m tired of running.”
“Why fake my diagnosis?”
“I didn’t.”
Dominic stopped several feet away.
“Try again.”
Anthony laughed bitterly.
“You always think everything is about you.”
“You paid the doctor.”
“I paid Kessler.”
“For what?”
“To alter records.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Anthony looked around the warehouse.
“This started long before Valentina.”
Dominic waited.
“Gabriel discovered the missing money first.”
Dominic’s blood ran cold.
“My brother?”
“Yes.”
“He died before Elena reported it.”
“Exactly.”
Anthony’s voice shook.
“He discovered a laundering network operating inside Moretti Development. Millions were being siphoned through construction invoices.”
“By you.”
Anthony shook his head.
“I helped hide it.”
“Who was stealing?”
Anthony looked directly at him.
“Your father.”
Dominic froze.
Vittorio Moretti.
Dead twelve years.
The man Dominic had spent his life simultaneously fearing and worshiping.
Anthony continued.
“Your father moved money out for years. Gabriel found out. He threatened to expose him.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“What does Elena have to do with it?”
“She was Gabriel’s girlfriend.”
Dominic absorbed that.
“He kept her secret because your father would never have accepted her.”
“And Valentina?”
“Gabriel knew she was pregnant.”
Dominic’s fists tightened.
“The fire.”
Anthony looked away.
“Was not an accident.”
Dominic’s body became completely still.
“Who killed him?”
Anthony swallowed.
“Your father ordered it.”
The warehouse seemed to tilt.
Dominic remembered standing beside Vittorio at Gabriel’s funeral.
His father had placed a hand on his shoulder.
Family is all that matters.
Dominic felt sick.
“Why protect him after he died?”
“I wasn’t protecting him.”
Anthony’s voice cracked.
“I was protecting myself.”
He explained.
After Gabriel’s death, Anthony continued the laundering scheme.
He had learned how profitable betrayal could be.
When Vittorio died, Anthony simply kept stealing.
Elena discovered discrepancies years later and recognized accounts Gabriel had once mentioned.
Anthony scared her into silence.
Then she began gathering evidence.
“She was going to tell you,” Anthony said.
“What stopped her?”
“She got sick.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Did Kessler?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe anything you say?”
Anthony reached into his coat.
Marco’s weapon rose instantly.
Anthony froze.
“Easy.”
He removed a flash drive.
“This contains the original records.”
Dominic took it.
“Why give it to me?”
“Because someone else took over.”
“Who?”
Anthony looked frightened for the first time.
“Your cousin, Victor Moretti.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Victor had served as a trusted executive for ten years.
He currently managed nearly half Dominic’s legitimate business network.
“Victor discovered the old accounts. He realized if you died without an heir, he would control most of the empire.”
Dominic understood.
“So my diagnosis.”
“Victor ordered Kessler to falsify the readings.”
“Why not simply kill me?”
Anthony laughed humorlessly.
“Because a dead crime boss causes investigations. A sick businessman creates sympathy.”
Dominic felt cold.
“And Valentina?”
Anthony’s expression changed.
“Valentina is Gabriel’s daughter.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Anthony stepped closer.
“You don’t understand.”
He pointed at the flash drive.
“Your father’s trust was written before Gabriel died. If Gabriel had a surviving child…”
Dominic finished the thought.
“She inherits his share.”
“Exactly.”
“How much?”
“Thirty percent of the entire Moretti estate.”
Dominic stared.
Anthony whispered, “Victor doesn’t just need you dead.”
The truth landed.
“He needs Valentina dead too.”
A gunshot exploded through the warehouse.
Anthony jerked backward and collapsed.
Marco dragged Dominic behind a concrete pillar.
Two more shots struck the table.
“Shooter!” Marco shouted.
Dominic drew his weapon but stopped.
Valentina’s voice echoed in his memory.
Don’t hurt him.
He hated the absurdity of morality arriving at the worst possible time.
Marco fired toward the ceiling support, forcing the shooter to retreat.
Footsteps raced.
A side door slammed.
They found Anthony bleeding but alive.
The bullet had passed through his shoulder.
Dominic knelt.
“Victor?”
Anthony nodded weakly.
“Protect… the girl.”
Dominic was already calling home.
Mrs. Alvarez answered.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Where’s Valentina?”
A pause.
“She’s upstairs.”
“Put her on.”
More silence.
Then Mrs. Alvarez’s voice changed.
“Sir…”
Dominic stood.
“What?”
“I thought she was with Lucia.”
His blood froze.
“Where is Lucia?”
“She left ten minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“She received a call.”
Dominic’s heart stopped.
He ran toward the car.
“Find Valentina now.”
Marco followed.
Dominic called Lucia.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then a message arrived from an unknown number.
A photograph.
Valentina sitting in the back seat of a car.
Terrified.
Below it were six words.
Bring the files. Come alone. Midnight.
Dominic stared at the screen.
For three years, he had believed nothing could hurt him because he had already lost everything.
He had been wrong.
He had something to lose again.
And someone had just taken her.
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