Chapter 9 - THE FIRST TIME SOPHIE CALLED HIM DAD
It happened by accident.
At least Sophie claimed it did.
Adrien did not believe her.
Six months after the criminal cases closed, the family traveled to Vermont for winter break.
No Moretti estate.
No waterfront.
No court.
A rented lodge near Stowe.
Dante complained about security.
Adrien ignored him.
Elena complained that Adrien had rented something with seven bedrooms for six people plus security.
Adrien reminded her there were actually seven family members.
Elena stared.
“Counting yourself?”
“Yes.”
“That is not how normal people describe vacations.”
“I have never claimed normal.”
True.
Owen joined them for one day.
That had taken months of therapy.
Supervised visits had gradually become longer.
No gambling relapses.
No missing appointments.
He worked.
Paid restitution.
Called Sophie every Wednesday at exactly seven.
Sometimes she spoke five minutes.
Sometimes thirty.
Sometimes not at all.
Owen accepted it.
Dr. Morgan eventually approved an unsupervised afternoon.
Ski village.
Public.
Elena nearby but not hovering.
Adrien stayed away completely.
That had been harder than federal court.
At five, Owen returned Sophie to the lodge.
She looked happy.
Not transformed.
Not suddenly attached.
Just happy.
“We got hot chocolate.”
Owen smiled.
“She ordered extra whipped cream.”
Adrien looked at Sophie.
“She knows that is a security risk.”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
“Dad—”
Silence.
Everyone froze.
Sophie’s face went red.
Adrien stopped breathing.
Owen looked down.
Elena’s eyes widened.
Sophie stared at Adrien.
“I meant Adrien.”
No one moved.
Adrien forced his voice to work.
“Okay.”
“Because I call Owen Dad sometimes.”
Adrien nodded.
“Okay.”
“And you’re Adrien.”
“Yes.”
“Except…”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
Adrien felt every adult instinct telling him to make this easy for her.
So he did.
“You can call me whatever you want.”
“Even Dad?”
Owen’s expression changed.
Pain.
Adrien saw it.
Did not ignore it.
“Yes.”
Sophie looked toward Owen.
“Is that bad?”
Owen’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No.”
Owen swallowed.
“I’m your dad because I’m your biological father.”
He looked at Adrien.
“And he’s been here.”
Sophie’s face crumpled.
Owen continued.
“If you want two dads, that sounds like more people bothering you about homework.”
She laughed through tears.
Adrien looked away.
The generosity cost Owen something.
That mattered.
Sophie walked toward Adrien.
“You’re Dad at home.”
Adrien’s chest tightened.
“And Owen?”
“Dad Owen.”
Owen laughed.
“Not elegant.”
“You disappeared for six years. You don’t get branding authority.”
Elena covered her face.
Adrien laughed.
Sophie smiled.
“Okay?”
Adrien crouched.
“Yes.”
She hugged him.
“Dad.”
This time intentional.
Adrien closed his eyes.
Held her.
Across the room, Owen looked toward the snowy window.
Elena touched his arm.
Not romantic.
Human.
“Thank you.”
Owen nodded.
“I’m trying.”
That evening, Adrien found Owen outside near the firepit.
“You okay?”
Owen laughed.
“Do you actually care?”
“Yes.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“I’m told.”
Owen stared at the snow.
“I imagined hearing her call me Dad for years.”
“She does.”
“Yes.”
“But hearing her call you…”
Adrien waited.
“It hurt.”
“I know.”
“I also know I don’t get to complain.”
“You get to feel it.”
Owen looked at him.
“Therapy?”
Adrien sighed.
“Everyone in my life has ruined me.”
Owen smiled.
“She loves you.”
“Yes.”
“She loves me a little.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe more someday.”
“Maybe.”
Owen nodded.
“I can live with maybe.”
Progress.
Inside, triplets were fighting over a board game.
Sophie yelled:
“Dad!”
Both men turned.
Sophie stared.
Then laughed so hard she fell onto the couch.
Elena shouted:
“You created this.”
Adrien looked at Owen.
“We need a system.”
Owen smiled.
“Good luck.”
The vacation ended peacefully.
Which should have worried Adrien.
Peace never lasted long around the Moretti family.
But this time the next problem came from business, not violence.
Moretti Maritime’s board wanted Adrien to step down.
Not because of criminal allegations.
Because he had become a liability.
Dominic’s trial.
Claire’s reopened death.
Trust scandals.
Media coverage.
Family court.
Every story included Adrien’s name.
Insurance premiums climbed.
Two lenders demanded governance changes.
The board chair, Vincent Hale, met Adrien privately.
“This is not personal.”
Adrien laughed.
“People keep saying that before extremely personal things.”
“We need stability.”
“And I am instability.”
“You are the Moretti brand.”
“Apparently that became bad.”
Vincent sighed.
“We want you as executive chairman without operational authority.”
Adrien stared.
Years earlier, he would have destroyed the board.
Bought votes.
Threatened lenders.
Found leverage.
Now?
He looked toward a photograph on his office shelf.
Theo.
Miles.
Nora.
Sophie.
Elena.
“What happens to Dante?”
“Security remains.”
“Employees?”
“No layoffs tied to transition.”
“Family trusts?”
“Untouched.”
“Claire’s protections?”
“Untouched.”
Vincent blinked.
“You’re considering it.”
Adrien almost smiled.
“I’m forty-three.”
“That is not old.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then?”
Adrien looked out over Manhattan.
“I have spent twenty-seven years making myself necessary.”
“And?”
“I’m curious what happens if I stop.”
The board transition was announced two weeks later.
Media called it a downfall.
FORCED OUT.
MAFIA BILLIONAIRE LOSES CONTROL.
Adrien read one headline at breakfast.
Sophie leaned over.
“Are you fired?”
“No.”
“Sounds fired.”
Elena laughed.
Adrien glared.
Theo asked:
“Do you still have money?”
“Yes.”
“Then okay.”
Children.
Excellent financial analysts.
Adrien became executive chairman.
Three meetings a week.
No daily operations.
The first Monday home, he followed Elena around the kitchen for an hour.
She turned.
“What?”
“I have nothing to do.”
“You own eleven companies.”
“People are running them.”
“Tragic.”
“I could help with your nonprofit plan.”
“No.”
“I have ideas.”
“No.”
“Excellent ideas.”
“Adrien.”
He smiled.
“Fine.”
Elena’s program launched that spring.
Bellamy House.
Not Moretti.
A support organization for domestic workers and single parents seeking childcare, legal assistance and education.
Adrien donated nothing initially.
Elena insisted.
She raised outside funds.
Built a board.
Hired staff.
Then applied for a Moretti Foundation grant like everyone else.
Adrien recused himself.
She received less than requested.
He was offended.
Elena was delighted.
“Independent governance.”
“This is terrible.”
“This is healthy.”
“I dislike health.”
“No, you don’t.”
At opening day, Sophie cut the ribbon.
Owen attended.
Adrien stood beside Elena.
A reporter asked Sophie:
“Is Mr. Moretti your stepfather?”
Sophie frowned.
“No.”
Adrien almost choked.
The reporter looked confused.
Sophie pointed.
“He’s my dad.”
Then pointed toward Owen.
“That’s Dad Owen.”
The reporter blinked.
Elena covered her face.
Owen laughed.
Adrien looked at Sophie.
She smiled.
May you like
No accident this time.
And for once, Adrien Moretti did not need any title larger than the one a six-year-old girl had chosen for him.
