Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO BOUGHT HIS OWN SON
Dante Moretti had spent fifteen years believing Luca was his father's youngest son.
Now a forged document claimed Luca belonged to Victor Costa.
And someone had paid twelve million dollars to make that claim useful.
"Get a DNA test," Dante ordered.
Marco nodded.
"Immediately."
"And don't tell Luca."
Dante examined the transfer agreement.
The signatures had not yet been completed.
His own signature was missing.
Luca's was missing.
But the family seal appeared on the final page.
The impression was authentic.
That explained Isabella's theft.
What it did not explain was how Victor intended to force Dante to sign.
Unless the wedding was part of the leverage.
Dante opened another folder.
Inside was a prenuptial agreement prepared by Victor's lawyers.
He had skimmed an earlier draft weeks ago.
This version was different.
A new clause had been added.
Upon marriage, Isabella would become a co-trustee of the Moretti family holdings.
A second clause authorized her to execute emergency transfers if Dante became incapacitated.
And a third granted Victor Costa temporary management authority.
Dante's mouth curved into a humorless smile.
They were not planning a wedding.
They were planning a takeover.
And they expected him to stand at the altar while it happened.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Isabella.
Can't wait to become Mrs. Moretti tomorrow. Daddy says everything is finally falling into place.
Dante typed back.
So do I.
Then he called Marco.
"Invite Isabella to dinner tonight."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"Boss, you know she's dangerous."
Dante looked toward the family portrait above the fireplace.
"So am I."
That afternoon, Elena found Dante standing outside the guesthouse.
Sophia was playing in the garden under the watchful eyes of two guards.
She had arranged fallen leaves into a tiny castle.
"Mr. Moretti," Elena said quietly, "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but Sophia needs a normal life."
Dante watched the child.
"I know."
"Then please tell me when we can leave."
"Soon."
Elena folded her arms.
"You keep saying that."
He turned toward her.
"I found evidence that my father helped cover up a murder."
Elena went still.
"And the woman I'm supposed to marry may be helping her father steal everything my family owns."
"Then why are you still marrying her?"
"Because I need to know what they intend to do next."
Elena stared at him.
"You're using yourself as bait."
Dante said nothing.
"That's reckless."
"Probably."
"And what happens if they win?"
His gaze moved to Sophia.
"Then people like you pay the price."
Elena's expression softened.
For a moment, they stood together in the cold afternoon air.
Then Sophia ran toward them.
"Uncle Dante!"
He crouched.
She held out a tiny yellow leaf.
"For you."
Dante accepted it.
"What's this for?"
"Because you're sad."
Something tightened painfully in his chest.
He had not realized anyone could see it.
Sophia touched his cheek.
"My mommy says sad people need hugs."
Before he could respond, she wrapped her little arms around his neck.
Dante froze.
Then slowly, carefully, he hugged her back.
Elena looked away.
She did not want him to see the emotion in her eyes.
That evening, Isabella arrived wearing a red silk dress and diamonds worth more than Elena earned in ten years.
She kissed Dante's cheek.
"Darling, you look tired."
"Long day."
"Tomorrow will be wonderful."
"Will it?"
"Of course."
Dinner proceeded smoothly.
Isabella laughed.
Complimented the wine.
Discussed flowers.
Never once mentioned the family seal.
Then Dante asked a simple question.
"How is your brother?"
Isabella's fork stopped.
She had no brother.
At least, none she had ever acknowledged.
"What brother?"
Dante watched her carefully.
"Luca."
Her face lost color.
For one second, the polished mask slipped.
Then she laughed.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Dante leaned back.
"Your father has been very generous to him."
Isabella placed her fork down.
"You're making me uncomfortable."
"Good."
The dining room fell silent.
Dante stood.
"Tell your father I know about the transfer agreement."
Isabella's eyes widened.
"You shouldn't have looked."
There it was.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
A confession.
Dante stepped closer.
"Tell me what happens tomorrow."
She stared at him.
Then her expression changed.
The fear disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
"You really don't understand, do you?"
"Enlighten me."
Isabella smiled.
"Tomorrow isn't about taking your money, Dante."
"Then what is it about?"
She leaned forward.
"It's about finishing what your father started."
Dante felt a chill.
"And what did he start?"
May you like
Isabella's smile vanished.
"The night he ordered your mother killed."
