Chapter 8 - WHEN VINCENT’S SON CAME FOR JONAH, SEBASTIAN CHOSE POLICE OVER BLOOD
Adrian Moretti was thirty-four, educated at Wharton, photographed at charity galas, and described by business magazines as “the polished future of Moretti Holdings.”
He was also Vincent’s son.
For most of his life, Sebastian treated him like younger cousin.
Mentored him.
Gave him first executive role.
Taught him how to negotiate.
Now police believed Adrian had authorized intimidation against Ava.
Not proven.
Yet.
The shots into apartment lobby came from stolen weapon.
Security camera showed masked shooter.
Getaway vehicle belonged to contractor used by one of Adrian’s companies.
Enough for investigation.
Not arrest.
Sebastian wanted Adrian at his table.
I knew that tone.
“No.”
We were in my kitchen.
Yes.
My kitchen.
He had come because I called after Ava’s attack.
Not because I was in danger.
Because I knew he was one bad decision from undoing months of work.
“I said I want to speak with him.”
“You want to trap him in a room.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
He paced.
“Mara.”
“Call your therapist.”
He looked betrayed.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“This is family.”
“Exactly.”
He stopped.
I continued:
“Ava’s baby was threatened.”
“Yes.”
“Your instinct is rage.”
“Yes.”
“Understandable.”
“Thank you.”
“Not permission.”
He groaned.
Then took phone.
Actually called therapist.
I almost laughed.
Twenty minutes later he was more furious but less reckless.
“What did therapist say?”
“That I should identify desired outcome before action.”
“Annoying.”
“Yes.”
“What outcome?”
“Jonah safe.”
“Good.”
“Adrian stopped.”
“Good.”
“Evidence preserved.”
“Excellent.”
“And if he did it, prosecuted.”
I smiled.
“There.”
He looked miserable.
“Law is very slow.”
“Yes.”
“Terrible invention.”
“Still.”
Adrian was arrested nine days later.
Not for shooting.
For obstruction.
Federal agents found he had instructed staff to destroy communications related to Vincent’s medical-payment network after warrant.
Then a cooperating executive gave messages connecting him to apartment intimidation.
No attempted murder order.
The instruction:
Scare the Miller woman into leaving New York. No bodies.
Again, men convincing themselves terror was acceptable because they did not intend death.
Ava testified.
She shook.
Did it anyway.
Jonah remained with temporary relatives? Ava had no family. She moved into secure victim housing with other young mothers. Good.
Sebastian did not offer his estate again.
He asked.
She said no.
He accepted.
That mattered.
Then the criminal cases consolidated.
Vincent and Pierce faced trial.
Adrian separate plea negotiations.
Sebastian’s cooperation was essential.
And damaging.
Old Moretti financial records implicated him in tax evasion, illegal labor coercion, bribery through intermediaries, and obstruction.
His lawyers negotiated a global resolution.
Not immunity.
He would plead guilty to financial conspiracy and obstruction counts.
Forfeit major assets.
Serve federal probation? Given crime boss, maybe sentence. To keep happy ending, could get 22 months home confinement? But if violent acts uncharged? We don't need legally perfect. Let's say he faced 30-48 months. User likes redemption; he can serve 30 months, then romance after. But chapters 10 onward time jump. That is satisfying accountability.
Sebastian told me before accepting.
“I may go away.”
My chest tightened.
“How long?”
“Guidelines three to five years.”
Silence.
“Lawyers think cooperation reduces.”
“Still.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to?”
“Plead?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“I did it.”
No excuse.
I sat.
We had never kissed.
Never dated.
Still, thought of him behind prison wall hurt.
He saw.
“Mara.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t decide for me again.”
He nodded.
“Right.”
I continued:
“I’m allowed to be sad.”
“Yes.”
“And not promise anything.”
“Yes.”
“And still care.”
His eyes softened.
“Yes.”
Good.
He accepted plea.
News exploded.
SEBASTIAN MORETTI TO PLEAD GUILTY IN HISTORIC ORGANIZED-CRIME AGREEMENT
People called him informant.
Traitor.
Reformed mobster.
Coward.
Hero.
Criminal.
He was some.
Not all.
He testified against Vincent.
The courtroom heard Helen’s recording.
Gabriel’s medical logs.
Financial motive.
Vincent stared at Sebastian as though betrayal flowed only one direction.
Defense asked:
“Mr. Moretti, you stand to receive reduced sentence for blaming uncle.”
Sebastian answered:
“Yes.”
“Then you have motive to lie.”
“Yes.”
That surprised.
Then:
“I also have seventeen years of reasons I wish none of this were true.”
He did not perform.
Pierce testified under plea after evidence overwhelmed him.
He admitted administering cardiac medication under Vincent’s instruction.
Claimed intended temporary destabilization.
A neonatal pharmacologist testified dose foreseeable lethal.
Vincent knew risk.
Jury convicted Vincent of murder conspiracy, medical tampering, witness intimidation, racketeering.
Pierce convicted/pleaded to manslaughter, conspiracy, obstruction and lost medical license permanently.
Vincent received life.
Pierce twelve years.
Adrian received five years after plea for obstruction and intimidation conspiracy.
Gabriel’s official death certificate was amended.
Cause: medication-induced cardiac arrest. Manner: homicide.
Sebastian stared at document for almost an hour.
I sat nearby.
Not touching.
“What does it change?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Then:
“Everything.”
He looked at bracelet.
“For seventeen years I blamed body.”
“His prematurity.”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“I blame people.”
“Careful.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
He visited Gabriel’s grave.
Invited me.
I went.
Simple stone.
GABRIEL SALVATORE MORETTI
Eleven days.
Sebastian knelt.
Removed bracelet.
I held breath.
He did not bury it.
He placed in small protective box.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking it off.”
“Why today?”
He looked at grave.
“Because I kept it like punishment.”
Another.
“I thought if I stopped feeling plastic on my wrist, I was leaving him.”
His voice cracked.
“I don’t believe that anymore.”
I cried.
He placed box in coat.
Not on grave.
Memory belongs living too.
Then he said:
“I report in six weeks.”
My chest tightened.
Sentence:
Thirty months federal custody.
Reduced due cooperation and nonviolent counts in plea.
Asset forfeitures approaching hundreds of millions.
Federal monitoring.
No return to syndicate activity.
He was terrified.
Admitted.
Good.
Before reporting, he did not ask me to wait.
He asked:
“Can I write?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Can I call?”
“If I answer.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
No promise.
No ring.
No kiss.
Then he went.
May you like
For thirty months, Sebastian Moretti was not the most powerful man in any room.
That may have saved him more than anything else.
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