Chapter 5 - Bloodlines and Lies
Z
The air in the private archive room beneath the Moretti Estate in Long Island smelled of ozone, old paper, and dusty leather. The underground facility had been built by Dominic’s grandfather during the height of the Cold War—a subterranean vault meant to survive bombs, wiretaps, and federal raids.
Dominic stood under the harsh white fluorescent light, holding a heavy steel filing box he had just cut open with a blowtorch.
Behind him, Victor Bellini stood leaning against a concrete pillar, his hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. The old man looked ten years older tonight. His face was hollow, shadows deep beneath his eyes.
"You knew," Dominic said. His voice wasn't loud. It was terrifyingly flat.
Victor didn't answer right away. He stared at the concrete floor between his polished shoes. "Dominic..."
"Don't lie to me!" Dominic roared, slamming his fist onto the steel table. The sound echoed violently off the subterranean walls. "Nine years ago! Nine years ago, my brother's car was pulled out of the Hudson River! The body was burned beyond recognition! The dental records matched! We buried him, Victor! I held my mother while she wept over his casket!"
"The body in that car belonged to a junkie from Queens," Victor said, his voice barely a rasp. "Your father arranged it."
Dominic stepped up to Victor, grabbing the old man by the lapels of his wool coat, shoving him hard against the pillar. "Why? Why would my father fake Julian's death?"
"Because Julian was a monster, Dominic!" Victor snapped back, his faded eyes flashing with sudden, raw emotion. "You were away at college! You were at Georgetown, getting your business degree, living a clean life! You didn't see what Julian was becoming! He wasn't just ruthless—he was sadistic! He was selling weapons to cartels, setting up human trafficking routes through our ports, doing things your father explicitly forbade!"
Victor took a ragged breath, his shoulders trembling. "Eduardo tried to stop him. Julian threatened to kill your mother. He threatened to kill you. He wanted total control of the empire, and he didn't care how many rivers of blood he had to swim through to get it."
Dominic’s grip on Victor’s coat loosened slightly. He stared at the man who had been a father figure to him for his entire life. "So my father staged his death?"
"Eduardo couldn't bring himself to kill his own firstborn son," Victor whispered. "So he stripped him of his name, took his money, and exiled him to Europe. Eduardo set up a dark trust—a secondary account that fed Julian just enough money to keep him alive and silent in the shadows of Marseille. The only condition was that Julian never, ever set foot on American soil again."
"And when my father died..." Dominic whispered, the awful realization dawning on him like a toxic poison.
"When Eduardo died three years ago, the trust began to dissolve," Victor said grimly. "Julian lost his allowance. He wanted his birthright back. He wanted the empire."
Dominic let go of Victor's coat, staggering back a step. He ran both hands through his hair, his mind racing through six years of agonizing history. "Six years ago... when Sophia got pregnant... when her calls were blocked... when she was fired..."
Victor lowered his head. "It wasn't Vescari I was hiding her from, Dominic. Vescari was an old fool chasing old grudges. It was Julian."
Dominic stared at Victor in absolute, horrified disbelief.
"Julian found out Sophia was pregnant before you even knew," Victor confessed, tears finally welling in his old eyes. "He sent me a photograph of Sophia's ultrasound with a note: 'If he has an heir, I will butcher them both in their sleep.' That's why I did it, Dominic! I blocked her calls! I intercepted the letters! I made her vanish into Brooklyn! I let you hate me, I let her hate you, because as long as Julian thought she was just a forgotten ex-girlfriend, he left her alone!"
Dominic stood frozen in the freezing archive room. The heavy weight of six years of anger, grief, and betrayal suddenly shifted, twisting into something far more dangerous. The villain he had hated for missing his daughter's life wasn't sitting across from him. The villain was a ghost who had been pulling the strings from across the ocean.
"Where is he, Victor?" Dominic asked, his voice dropping to a icy whisper.
"He's in New York," Victor said softly. "He came back the moment he heard Vescari failed at the warehouse. He knows you know."
Before Dominic could respond, the heavy steel door of the archive room clicked open.
One of Dominic's elite bodyguards, Marcus, stepped into the room, his face pale. "Boss. You need to get back to the penthouse. Right now."
Dominic's blood ran cold. "What happened?"
"It's Miss Carter," Marcus said, his voice tight with anxiety. "She received a package at the private entrance. Security cleared it for explosives, but... you need to see what's inside."
Ten minutes later, Dominic’s car was tearing through the night streets of Manhattan at dangerous speeds. He sprinted up the private elevator of the penthouse, bursting through the doors with his gun drawn.
Sophia was sitting on the velvet sofa in the grand living room. She was uninjured, but her face was completely drained of color. Two guards stood near the balcony, weapons drawn. Lily was fast asleep in her bedroom down the hall, blissfully unaware of the storm.
On the glass coffee table in front of Sophia sat a small, polished wooden box.
Dominic rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. "Sophia! Are you hurt? Did anyone come in?"
"No," she whispered, her hands shaking as she pointed at the box. "It was delivered by a courier. It was addressed to me."
Dominic turned his attention to the wooden box. The lid was open.
Inside lay a single, antique silver pocket watch—the exact twin to the pocket watch that sat on Dominic's desk, the one that had belonged to his father, Eduardo.
Next to the watch was a handwritten note on expensive linen paper.
Dominic picked up the note. The handwriting was elegant, precise, and hauntingly familiar.
Little brother, the note read.
You always were father's favorite. You got the suits, the empire, and the beautiful family. But you are playing house with a child that carries Moretti blood. And in our family, blood belongs to the man strong enough to claim it. I am taking what is mine. See you at the gala on Saturday. Let's see if your little accountant can survive the dance.
Sophia reached out, clutching Dominic's arm tightly. "Dominic... who is he? Who sent this?"
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Dominic looked at the note, his fingers tightening until the paper crumpled in his fist. He looked into Sophia's terrified eyes, and then toward the hallway where his daughter was sleeping safely.
"My brother," Dominic said, his eyes darkening with a cold, merciless rage. "And he just made the biggest mistake of his life."
