Chapter 4: The Cousin Who Smiled at the Wrong Moment
Vincent Moretti's office on the fourteenth floor of Moretti Holdings had a view of the Manhattan skyline that he had spent eleven years believing he deserved.
He was still at his desk at nine forty-three in the evening when Dominic walked in without knocking.
Vincent looked up.
He was fifty-one, broad-shouldered, with the Moretti jaw and none of the Moretti restraint.
He smiled when he saw Dominic — the particular smile of a man who has prepared for a conversation and believes he is ready for it.
"Dominic.
I heard you cancelled Baltimore."
"Sit down, Vincent."
"I am sitting."
"Then stay there."
Vincent's smile adjusted slightly.
He set his pen down.
"You look like something's bothering you."
"Sophia Carter," Dominic said.
Not a flicker.
Vincent had always been good at that.
"The accountant?
From the Manhattan office?
That was — what, six years ago?"
"She was terminated three weeks ago.
Confidentiality violation.
You authorized it personally."
"I authorize a lot of terminations.
HR is my division."
"You drove to the Manhattan office to do it yourself.
On a Tuesday.
You told Elena Vasquez to process it immediately and not to flag it for standard review." Dominic sat down across from him.
"You were pleased."
A beat.
Small, but there.
"Elena has a loose mouth."
"Why did you fire her, Vincent?"
"Because she violated—"
"She didn't violate anything and you know it.
Try again."
Vincent leaned back.
The smile was gone now, replaced by something more considered.
He picked up his pen and turned it slowly between his fingers.
"You were distracted," he said.
"After the Vescari situation settled, you went soft on the operational side.
I was protecting the organization."
"From an accountant."
"From a liability.
From someone who knew too much about the wrong period in our finances and who had a personal connection to you that you were too sentimental to see clearly." He set the pen down again.
"I did you a favour."
"You knew about the child."
The pen stopped moving.
"I don't know what you—"
"Don't." Dominic's voice dropped half a register.
The room felt smaller.
"How long?"
Vincent looked at him for a moment.
Then he made a decision — Dominic could see it happen, the small recalculation behind his eyes.
"Two years," Vincent said.
"I had someone run a background on her after the Vescari truce.
Routine surveillance on anyone with prior personal access to you.
The child's birth record came up.
The dates lined up." He spread his hands.
"I handled it."
"You handled it."
"A child born to a civilian woman who had a relationship with you during an active conflict period — that's not a personal matter, Dominic.
That's a security exposure.
I made a business decision."
Dominic stood up.
"You made a decision about my daughter without telling me she existed."
"Your—" Vincent stopped.
For the first time, something moved across his face that wasn't calculated.
"You didn't know."
"No."
The silence in the room changed texture.
"I assumed you knew and had chosen to keep your distance," Vincent said.
"I thought the termination would—" He stopped again.
Recalibrated.
"I was protecting the family."
"You were protecting your position." Dominic walked to the window.
The skyline spread out below, indifferent.
"You've been running this division for eleven years.
You know every number, every account, every name in every file.
You knew that if I had a child — a legitimate heir — your role in this organization changes."
"That's not—"
"You fired her mother to keep her invisible." Dominic turned around.
"And when that didn't work — when Lily came to my house today — you lost your insurance."
Vincent's chair scraped back.
He stood up.
"I have done nothing that wasn't in the best interest of this family.
Everything I have built here—"
"Is mine," Dominic said simply.
"It was always mine.
You were trusted with it."
"And I protected it.
While you were grieving your sister, while you were managing the Vescari situation, while you were too distracted to see what was sitting right in front of you — I kept this organization running.
I kept it clean.
I made the hard decisions you didn't want to make."
"Like deciding my daughter didn't exist."
Vincent's mouth closed.
"You'll hand over access to every file, every account, and every communication from the past two years by eight tomorrow morning," Dominic said.
"You'll do it quietly.
You'll tell no one why."
"And if I don't?"
Dominic looked at him.
Just looked at him.
The way he had looked at men twice Vincent's size who had subsequently remembered appointments somewhere else.
"You will," Dominic said.
He walked to the door.
"Dominic." Vincent's voice stopped him.
"The Vescari organization — they have people watching.
If they find out about the girl before you've secured her—"
"I know."
"Then you understand why I—"
"Good night, Vincent."
He left without looking back.
In the elevator going down, his phone lit up.
A message from his chief of security: *Vescari's man was seen outside the Brooklyn building at 6 PM.
Left at 7:10.
We don't know if he saw the girl.*
Dominic stared at the message.
The elevator doors opened.
May you like
He was already calling Sophia before he reached the lobby.
She didn't pick up.
