Chapter 5 - MARCO ADMITTED HE HAD BEEN PROTECTING ISABELLA’S SECRET FOR YEARS
Moretti Financial headquarters occupied thirty-two floors of a tower in Lower Manhattan.
At 3:14 a.m., only three floors had lights.
Twenty-seven.
Thirty-one.
Thirty-two.
Marco told me Isabella was on thirty-one.
Detective Ortiz came with me.
He hated that.
Good.
We entered through the main lobby.
No private side door.
No hidden men.
Marco waited by the elevators.
He looked exhausted.
Black suit.
No tie.
The same man who had served me for twelve years.
The man I had trusted enough to put between my bedroom door and anyone who wanted me dead.
“Boss.”
“Marco.”
His eyes moved to Ortiz.
“I thought I said alone.”
“I heard you.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I trust evidence.”
His face changed.
He knew.
“Rosaria told you.”
“Yes.”
“What did Daniel mean?”
Marco looked around the lobby.
“Not here.”
“Then upstairs.”
Ortiz said:
“Nobody goes anywhere until we know whether Isabella is armed.”
Marco nodded.
“She isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I took the gun.”
I stared.
“You spoke to her.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Thirty minutes ago.”
“Where is she?”
“Executive conference room.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She came here for account keys.”
“What account keys?”
Marco looked at me.
“The ones I never gave Luca.”
Another layer.
We moved upstairs.
Police cleared the floor.
Isabella sat behind the conference table wearing a borrowed black coat over her wedding dress.
No gun.
Hands visible.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Still not married.”
“Your loss.”
“Maybe.”
Ortiz positioned an officer near the door.
Marco remained outside.
I looked at Isabella.
“Why come here?”
“To get something.”
“You failed.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She smiled.
“Ask Marco.”
I turned.
He entered.
“Tell me.”
Marco looked at Isabella.
Then at me.
“Daniel said my name because he had spoken to me.”
“When?”
“Two days before his death.”
“Why?”
“He brought me information.”
“What?”
“Luca and Isabella meeting.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“For how long?”
“Eight months.”
Before my engagement.
Before Daniel died.
Before Sophia’s suffering.
Before Emma tugged my sleeve.
“What did you do?”
“Investigated.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
Rage rose.
I stepped closer.
“Why?”
Marco did not retreat.
“Because Daniel asked me not to.”
“You work for me.”
“I worked for your father too.”
“Not relevant.”
“It is.”
His voice hardened.
“Your father made me promise something after your first shooting.”
I froze.
Age twenty-six.
Ambushed outside a restaurant.
I killed one attacker before my men reached me.
Afterward, I hunted everyone connected.
Three men died.
One turned out not to have been involved.
That mistake stayed buried.
Publicly.
Not inside me.
Marco continued.
“Your father said if there was ever betrayal inside the family, I had to know before you did.”
My jaw tightened.
“He didn’t trust me.”
“He knew you.”
Same wound.
Different mouth.
“Daniel came to me because he had evidence against Luca.”
“What evidence?”
“Photographs.”
“Audio.”
“Meetings with Romano representatives.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
“Why?”
“Because I gave it to someone I thought was federal.”
Ortiz looked sharply at him.
“What?”
Marco nodded.
“I contacted a man claiming to be attached to an organized-crime task force.”
“You handed evidence to law enforcement?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Agent Thomas Greer.”
Ortiz’s expression changed.
“There has never been a Thomas Greer on the task force.”
Marco went pale.
“I know.”
“When did you learn?”
“After Daniel died.”
“So who was he?”
“We never identified.”
Isabella laughed quietly.
Everyone turned.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked at Marco.
“You really never figured it out?”
“Shut up.”
“No.”
She leaned back.
“Thomas Greer was Gabriel Romano.”
My body went cold.
Her uncle.
The retired consigliere.
“Disguise?”
“Alias.”
“Fake credentials.”
“Help from someone inside the government.”
Ortiz’s face hardened.
“Who?”
Isabella smiled.
“That costs immunity.”
“No.”
Ortiz’s answer was immediate.
“This is not a market.”
Isabella shrugged.
“Then keep guessing.”
I looked at Marco.
“You handed Daniel’s evidence to the conspiracy.”
“Yes.”
“Then Daniel died.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know?”
“I told him the evidence was safe.”
Marco’s face broke.
“He believed me.”
Another man carrying guilt.
“What happened next?”
“I started investigating Greer.”
“Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
“Found?”
“Nothing.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because Luca was your brother.”
“Isabella your fiancée.”
“Your mother involved in placing Sophia.”
“Daniel dead.”
“Every direction pointed into your family.”
“That is exactly when you tell me.”
“No.”
Marco looked at me.
“That is exactly when the old Alessandro kills first.”
Silence.
Even Ortiz did not interrupt.
“I was trying to prove enough that you would not act on instinct.”
“And instead?”
“I waited too long.”
“Yes.”
He accepted.
“What did Isabella want tonight?”
“Account keys.”
“Which?”
“Legacy contingency accounts.”
“How much?”
“Forty-six million.”
“Separate from Luca’s seventy-eight?”
“Yes.”
I laughed.
“How much money has my family hidden from me?”
“Too much.”
“Where did these accounts come from?”
“My father?”
Marco nodded.
“Your father built them as an emergency fund.”
“Why do you control keys?”
“He trusted security.”
“Poor choice.”
Marco took that too.
“Did Isabella know?”
“Apparently.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
“Gabriel.”
Her uncle again.
“What is his goal?”
She said nothing.
“Isabella.”
“No immunity.”
“You are facing conspiracy.”
“Assault.”
“Forgery.”
“Attempted theft.”
“Maybe more.”
She smiled faintly.
“You still don’t know who killed Daniel.”
“No.”
“You do.”
Her smile faded.
“What?”
“I think you know.”
She looked toward Marco.
Then me.
Finally:
“Daniel was not supposed to die.”
That changed the room.
“Explain.”
“He was supposed to be scared.”
“By whom?”
“Gabriel arranged pressure.”
“What kind?”
“A staged road stop.”
“Threat.”
“Take the notebook.”
“Then?”
“The driver panicked.”
“Which driver?”
Isabella hesitated.
Then:
“Mark Bell.”
I knew him.
Mid-level Moretti transport captain.
Still employed.
Still inside my organization.
Marco whispered:
“Jesus.”
Isabella continued.
“Mark forced Daniel toward the guardrail.”
“Accident?”
“No.”
“Intentional collision?”
“He clipped him.”
My hands went cold.
“Who ordered it?”
“Gabriel.”
“Did Luca know?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“After.”
“Did you tell Luca?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he would have backed out.”
There.
My brother was guilty.
But not of Daniel’s death.
Isabella preserved his involvement by hiding the violence.
“What about Sophia?”
“She had the notebook.”
“No.”
“That is what Gabriel believed.”
“Did you?”
“At first.”
“Then why keep threatening her?”
“Because if she didn’t have it, she might know where it was.”
“You threatened Emma.”
Isabella looked away for the first time.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because fear works.”
No excuse.
Ugly honesty.
I stood very still.
“You thought marrying me gave you the empire.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Marrying you gave me access.”
“The empire was going to tear itself apart afterward.”
“What?”
“That was Gabriel’s real plan.”
Luca and Isabella thought they were taking control.
But Gabriel Romano wanted collapse.
Moretti war.
Romano expansion.
Assets sold cheap.
Captains switching sides.
A marriage as Trojan horse.
Then Isabella said:
“He never intended Luca to lead.”
My pulse changed.
“Who?”
“Gabriel.”
“Then who?”
She looked directly at me.
“Marco.”
The room froze.
I turned toward my security chief.
He looked genuinely stunned.
“What?”
Isabella smiled.
“Did you really think Gabriel gave you fake federal contacts for nothing?”
Marco’s face drained.
She continued.
“He spent years making sure you were the only man Alessandro would still trust after everyone else looked dirty.”
I stared.
Marco whispered:
“No.”
Isabella leaned forward.
“The deleted footage.”
“You recovered it because someone left a backup where you would find it.”
“Who?”
“Gabriel.”
My stomach turned.
The revelation that stopped my wedding had not been an accident.
Someone wanted me to see Isabella assault Sophia.
Wanted me to see Luca.
Wanted suspicion.
Wanted family fracture.
Emma had told the truth before the plan expected it.
The footage merely accelerated a reveal Gabriel Romano had already prepared.
He wanted me angry.
Isolated.
Suspicious of Luca.
My mother.
Isabella.
Maybe Marco.
Everyone.
The empire would collapse inward.
Exactly as he wanted.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
Unknown.
He answered.
Listened.
His face turned white.
“What?”
I asked.
He placed it on speaker.
An older male voice.
Calm.
Amused.
Gabriel Romano.
“Good evening, Alessandro.”
I had never spoken to him.
Only heard stories.
He continued.
“I’m sorry your wedding was interrupted.”
I said nothing.
“I had hoped you would at least get through the vows.”
“Where are you?”
He laughed.
“That is still how you think.”
“Location.”
“Enemy.”
“Response.”
“You inherited Daniel Moretti’s worst habit.”
My father.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Lie.”
“Fine.”
He paused.
“I want you to do exactly what you have been doing since the little girl touched your sleeve.”
“What?”
“Doubt everyone.”
Then the line ended.
Marco stared at me.
“He wants civil war.”
“Yes.”
“And if we give it to him…”
“He wins.”
For the first time since the wedding stopped, I understood the true threat.
May you like
The conspiracy was not designed merely to steal my empire.
It was designed to make me destroy it myself.
