Chapter 13 - THE MONEY STOLEN FROM A CHILD
The thief wasn't Michael.
Wasn't Lorenzo.
Wasn't anyone in the Moretti family.
The trust administrator was Nathan Vale.
The same corrupt deputy commissioner now sitting in federal custody.
Adrian Cole had trusted Vale because they had been childhood friends.
Vale knew about Zach's possible paternity years before Michael did.
He siphoned money slowly.
Small enough amounts to avoid triggering automatic review.
Until Zach's medical procedure created updated beneficiary records.
Then the fraud surfaced.
Suddenly, Vale's interest in the Morettis made even more sense.
He wasn't only protecting Carlo's old network.
He had been stealing from Zach.
Michael's rage was terrifying.
But he didn't act on it.
That mattered.
He gave everything to federal investigators.
The old Michael—if the stories about him were true—might have handled it privately.
This Michael sat beside his son's hospital bed and let the law do its job.
Vale's remaining assets were frozen.
Regina accepted a cooperation agreement in exchange for reduced charges.
She testified about my father's imprisonment, the forged death records, Tony, the auction, and Vale.
I watched part of her testimony from the back of the courtroom.
She looked smaller.
Ordinary.
For years, Regina had been the monster in my life.
Seeing her beneath fluorescent courtroom lights taught me something.
Some monsters are simply selfish people who keep choosing the worst possible thing until the damage becomes enormous.
I didn't forgive her.
I didn't need to.
My father began physical rehabilitation after years of neglect.
He moved into a small apartment two blocks from me.
Yes.
Mine.
I refused Michael's offer to install me in a guarded penthouse.
He argued.
I won.
Mostly.
There were still two discreet security men downstairs.
“Compromise,” Michael called it.
“Surveillance,” I called it.
“Safety.”
“Annoying.”
We had that argument often.
Zach recovered quickly.
Once his doctors cleared him, he returned to school with a dramatic story about surviving heart surgery.
According to his teacher, he told everyone the scar made him “part robot.”
Then one Saturday he invited me to family dinner.
Michael pretended this was normal.
It wasn't.
After dessert, Zach fell asleep on the sofa.
I helped Michael carry a blanket over him.
Our hands met.
Neither pulled away.
“Thank you,” Michael said.
“For what?”
“For staying.”
Something tightened inside me.
“Nobody should have to earn people staying through fear.”
His expression changed.
He understood.
So did I.
Michael lifted my hand slowly.
Not claiming.
Asking.
I let him.
Then the front gate alarm sounded.
Both of us turned.
A car had stopped outside.
My father climbed out.
He held a folder.
His face told me the peace wasn't going to last.
Inside, he placed the folder on Michael's table.
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
“The money Carlo stole.”
“We found it.”
“No.”
Dad shook his head.
“That was only one account.”
Michael went still.
“How many?”
“Three.”
The twenty-seven million recovered for victims was the smallest.
A second offshore account contained nearly sixty million.
The third?
Nobody knew.
Only Carlo had possessed the complete access information.
But Dad remembered one detail.
Carlo had hidden his master key somewhere nobody would search.
Inside a piece of property registered to his only child.
Michael frowned.
“Carlo didn't have children.”
Dad looked at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo slowly sat down.
“Yes, he did.”
Michael stared at his father.
“Who?”
Lorenzo's eyes shifted toward me.
May you like
And suddenly I knew before he said it.
“Regina.”
