Chapter 11 - THE BROTHER WHO WANTED THE THRONE
Dominic Moretti had spent his entire life standing one step behind Vincent.
Vincent inherited the empire.
The respect.
The fear.
Dominic inherited a title without real control.
Apparently, resentment had been growing for years.
Charles Whitmore recognized it.
Then used it.
Dominic provided shipping access.
Vanessa provided influence over Vincent.
Charles provided money.
Their plan was simple.
Marry Vanessa to Vincent.
Merge legitimate assets.
Keep illegal cargo moving through Moretti routes.
Then eventually remove Vincent.
Dominic would inherit operational control.
Vanessa would inherit through marriage.
Everyone won.
Except Vincent.
And anyone who knew too much.
Like me.
I stared at Detective Bennett.
“So Dominic helped install the aerial rigging?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know she wanted me hurt?”
“We have messages suggesting he understood the risk.”
My stomach turned.
Vincent was informed separately.
I expected violence.
Instead, he called the authorities.
Dominic was arrested at a private airfield before he could leave New York.
I saw Vincent afterward.
He looked exhausted.
“My brother tried to replace me.”
“Yes.”
He smiled bitterly.
“Apparently becoming a better person is terrible for family loyalty.”
“That is not the lesson.”
He almost laughed.
Then grew serious.
“Grace, I’m stepping away.”
“From what?”
“The organization.”
I stared.
“The Mafia?”
“Yes.”
“You say that like you’re resigning from a country club.”
“It’s slightly more complicated.”
I crossed my arms.
“I imagine.”
He continued.
“I’m separating legitimate businesses, cooperating with investigators, and accepting whatever follows.”
My expression changed.
“You could lose everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the ballroom doors.
The same room where I had flown above a hundred laughing guests.
“Because I was engaged to a woman who tried to hurt you while my brother helped her.”
His voice hardened.
“And the system that gave them the ability to do that is one I helped maintain.”
That answer surprised me.
No heroic speech.
Responsibility.
Then he added:
“I’m tired of being feared by everyone I care about.”
My chest tightened.
“Do I fear you?”
He looked at me.
“Sometimes.”
I didn’t lie.
“Yes.”
Pain crossed his face.
He nodded.
“Then I have work to do.”
That night, I returned to my apartment.
My mother was staying nearby.
My father was rebuilding his legal identity.
Everything was changing.
Then I received an email.
From Vanessa.
Sent through her attorney.
One attachment.
A photograph from my circus years.
Me and Celeste backstage.
Behind us, barely visible in a mirror, stood Vincent.
Watching.
The date was six years ago.
Two years before my accident.
Long before he claimed he first noticed me perform.
I stared.
Then read Vanessa’s message:
Ask him why he was really at Aurelia that night.
May you like
My stomach tightened.
Because perhaps Vincent’s interest in me began much earlier than anyone had admitted.
