Chapter 12 - THE CONSERVATORY
Caterina wasn't tied up.
That was the first surprise.
She stood beside Victor beneath the glass roof.
Arguing.
Arthur showed me the remote security feed.
Victor held no visible weapon.
Still dangerous.
Police established a perimeter.
I did not go charging in.
Old Dominic might have.
Father Dominic had four boys waiting in Maine.
Different calculations.
Then my mother called.
“Dominic.”
“Are you safe?”
“For the moment.”
Victor's voice sounded behind her.
“Tell him to come in.”
“No.”
My mother almost laughed.
“Good.”
Victor grabbed the phone.
“Your sons lose everything unless you sign.”
“That's not how courts work.”
“Your lawyers made you civilized.”
“Elena did.”
Silence.
Then he said something unexpected.
“She won't stay.”
Maybe he'd known the old me too well.
“You think discovering children makes you a father?”
“No.”
That came easily.
“It makes me biologically responsible. Father comes later.”
Victor went quiet.
I meant it.
Six years cannot be repaired with blood tests and money.
They require breakfasts.
School pickups.
Fevers.
Apologies.
Time.
Victor wanted my signature on a trust amendment transferring certain voting rights temporarily to him in exchange for releasing Caterina.
Patricia nearly laughed when she read it.
“It wouldn't survive court.”
Victor knew.
This wasn't about legality.
He wanted evidence that I voluntarily supported him.
A bargaining chip.
We stalled.
Meanwhile, my mother kept talking.
In Sicilian.
Victor didn't realize Elena had taught me enough years ago to understand simple phrases.
Caterina said:
Left pocket.
Victor's left jacket pocket.
I informed police.
Likely weapon.
Then:
Back door open.
A tactical team repositioned.
Victor noticed her glance.
He grabbed her arm.
I entered then.
Not because I wanted heroics.
Because he was escalating.
“Let her go.”
He smiled.
“Nephew.”
“My mother isn't leverage anymore.”
Caterina actually looked offended.
“Lovely.”
Victor's attention moved.
Police entered through the rear.
He reached toward his left pocket.
I didn't move toward him.
I moved my mother away.
Officers tackled Victor.
No gunfire.
No dramatic mafia execution.
A pistol hit the floor.
Loaded.
Over.
Almost.
As Victor was handcuffed, he looked at me and laughed.
“You still don't know why Caterina sent Elena away.”
I turned toward my mother.
“What else is there?”
Caterina closed her eyes.
Victor answered for her.
“She wasn't protecting the trust.”
Not primarily.
She had received a medical report during Elena's pregnancy.
A genetic screening.
Something connected to the Moretti family.
Something she believed made the babies dangerous to acknowledge.
My mother whispered:
“Your grandfather had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”
Inherited heart disease.
Potentially serious.
She believed I carried the mutation.
She thought Elena's babies might too.
I stared.
“You sent her away because the boys might be sick?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Because Victor had used medical vulnerabilities before.”
A Moretti heir with a known condition could be manipulated through insurance, guardianship, medical records.
Still not enough.
Then she confessed the real reason.
My own childhood genetic test showed I did not carry my grandfather's mutation.
But six years ago, someone replaced that report with another.
A report saying I did.
Who altered it?
Dr. Nathan Barrett.
Sloane's uncle.
The false medical report was part of the conspiracy too.
And if they were willing to fake my genetics, we needed to verify something more fundamental.
My father requested a DNA test.
May you like
Not between me and the boys.
Between me and him.
