Chapter 4 - MY MARRIAGE HAD MADE ME A TARGET
I did not sleep that night.
By sunrise, Rachel had traced the trust.
It was real.
Dante’s grandmother, Lucia Moretti, had created it thirty-one years earlier after discovering her husband was using legitimate businesses to hide criminal money.
She separated the clean assets.
Locked them away.
And wrote one brutal condition into the trust.
No male descendant directly involved in the Moretti organization could control it.
The assets would pass through marriage to a spouse without a criminal role.
Me.
“Dante knew?”
Rachel asked.
“He says he didn’t.”
“Do you believe him?”
I hated that I did.
Dante was capable of hiding violence.
Money.
Family history.
Apparently an entire living brother.
But the shock in his voice when I explained the forged signature had been real.
Then Rachel found another clause.
If I divorced Dante before the fifth anniversary, the trust remained dormant.
If I remained legally married beyond five years, my rights became irrevocable.
I stared at the date.
Our anniversary.
The night I caught him kissing Sofia.
The exact night my ownership became permanent.
“That wasn’t coincidence.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
My stomach turned.
The kiss.
The timing.
The office door open.
My anniversary dinner arriving at exactly the right moment.
“What if Sofia wanted me to leave?”
“Emotionally?”
“Legally.”
If I filed for divorce after the five-year threshold, I still controlled the trust.
But if I died while proceedings were pending, Sofia—under the forged executive proxy—could temporarily exercise authority.
Long enough to move assets.
Long enough to destroy records.
Maybe long enough to hand them to Matteo.
I called Dante again.
He answered instantly.
“I need security footage from your office.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know whether Sofia knew I was coming.”
Silence.
“I’ll send it.”
“No editing.”
“Lena.”
“No Moretti version of the truth.”
“You’ll get the raw feed.”
Twenty minutes later, Rachel received the file.
We watched.
7:42 p.m.
Sofia entered Dante’s office.
7:55.
She poured herself a drink.
8:03.
She checked her phone.
8:06.
She walked toward Dante.
8:07.
She kissed him.
8:07 and fifteen seconds.
I appeared in the doorway.
Then Rachel paused.
“Wait.”
She rewound.
Sofia had looked toward the hallway three seconds before kissing Dante.
Not afterward.
Before.
“She knew you were there.”
My chest tightened.
The betrayal was real.
Dante had still failed to stop her.
But Sofia had staged the moment for me.
Then Rachel enlarged the reflection in the office window.
Someone else stood down the corridor.
Watching.
A man.
Tall.
Older than Dante.
Same dark hair.
Same posture.
Same face, almost.
May you like
Matteo Moretti had been standing twenty feet away when my marriage broke apart.
And he had been smiling.
