Chapter 8 - THE GALA OF GHOSTS
The police found the portable incubator three hours later.
It had been abandoned inside an underground parking garage near the river.
Sofia was not inside.
Neither was Gabriel.
A small oxygen tank lay beside the incubator. It still contained enough air for forty minutes.
Gabriel had planned every detail.
He knew exactly how long Sofia could survive outside a neonatal unit.
He knew the hospital’s evacuation routes.
He knew Adrian’s security procedures because he had written most of them.
By dawn, photographs of Gabriel covered every screen inside the Moretti command room.
Adrian transformed an empty hospital conference center into a private operations headquarters. Police commanders, security specialists, Moretti captains, and federal agents moved around digital maps of Chicago.
No one openly questioned why the city’s most feared man was directing the search.
A newborn had been kidnapped from a hospital.
That gave everyone permission to cooperate.
I sat in a wheelchair near the window, ignoring every nurse who ordered me back to bed.
“You should rest,” Adrian said.
“You have said that twelve times.”
“You nearly died.”
“Our daughter is missing.”
“Destroying yourself will not bring her back.”
“Neither will standing over a map.”
His expression tightened.
The room became quiet.
Everyone had heard me.
No one wanted to witness Adrian Moretti arguing with the woman who had just given birth to his child.
I lowered my voice.
“Gabriel sent the message to both of us. He wants us to understand something.”
“He wants me angry.”
“He already has that.”
“He wants me careless.”
“Then stop behaving carelessly.”
A police commander pretended to study another screen.
Bianca covered a small smile.
Adrian noticed.
“Do you find this entertaining?”
“No. I find it familiar.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Elena is the only person who has ever told you the truth while you were holding a weapon.”
He looked down at the pistol on the table and slid it into his jacket.
I turned toward Bianca.
“Gabriel said Vittorio stole his name.”
“I have been thinking about that.”
“And?”
“My father had an older brother.”
Adrian stared at her.
“No, he didn’t.”
“That is what we were told.”
“You found something in the estate.”
Bianca nodded.
“Birth certificates. Letters. Payments made to a woman named Catherine Voss.”
Gabriel’s last name.
“When?” Adrian asked.
“After Father died.”
“And you kept this from me?”
“I did not know what it meant.”
“You knew enough to hide it.”
“I knew Father paid Catherine every month for thirty-five years.”
“How old is Gabriel?” I asked.
“Thirty-nine,” Bianca said.
One year older than Adrian.
The firstborn son.
The message suddenly made sense.
Your father stole my name.
Gabriel believed he was a Moretti.
Adrian understood at the same moment.
“My grandfather had two sons,” he said. “Father and another child.”
“Father’s older brother was named Lorenzo,” Bianca replied. “He disappeared from the family records when he was twenty.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
A federal agent approached.
“Mr. Moretti, we traced the photograph’s metadata.”
“To where?”
“A public wireless network at the Grand Bellmont Hotel.”
Bianca checked the date on her phone.
“The foundation gala.”
The annual Moretti Foundation gala was scheduled for that night.
More than eight hundred guests were expected to attend.
Judges.
Politicians.
Business leaders.
Police officials.
Every powerful person connected to the legitimate Moretti empire.
“Cancel it,” I said.
Adrian shook his head.
“That is what Gabriel expects.”
“You cannot hold a party while our daughter is missing.”
“It isn’t a party now. It’s a stage.”
“He could have sent the message from the hotel to mislead us.”
“He could,” Bianca said. “But the gala matters.”
“Why?”
“It is the first public foundation event since the trust heir was born.”
I looked between them.
“Gabriel wants the city’s power structure gathered in one place.”
Adrian’s eyes hardened.
“He plans to announce his claim.”
“Can he?” I asked.
“With proof that he is a blood descendant of Lorenzo Moretti, he can challenge my authority over the organization.”
“And Sofia?”
“She is proof that the trust transfer has occurred.”
Bianca looked toward the conference room doors.
“He may want to present himself as her protector.”
“He kidnapped her from intensive care,” I said. “No court would give him guardianship.”
“This isn’t only about a court.”
Adrian understood.
“Some members of the family would support any man who physically controls the heir.”
The thought made me sick.
Sofia was less than one day old.
And already powerful men saw her as a symbol instead of a child.
“We go to the gala,” I said.
Adrian’s answer was immediate.
“No.”
“He expects you. He may not expect me.”
“He will expect both of us.”
“Then we give him what he expects.”
“You cannot walk.”
“I can stand.”
“You have surgical stitches.”
“I also have a daughter.”
He leaned closer.
“I will not use you as bait.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“You tried protecting me by divorcing me. Look where that brought us.”
The words hurt him.
I did not regret them.
Protection without truth was only another form of control.
Bianca stepped between us.
“Elena is right.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Do not encourage her.”
“Gabriel wants a public confrontation. He needs you angry and Elena frightened. Give him neither.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We attend the gala as though nothing has changed.”
“Our child was abducted.”
“And every person responsible will be watching to see whether you appear weak.”
I hated the logic because I knew it was correct.
Adrian did too.
By evening, the Grand Bellmont Hotel was surrounded by police, federal agents, and Moretti security teams loyal to Bianca.
The gala was not canceled.
Guests arrived beneath chandeliers and television cameras while rumors spread that Adrian Moretti had become a father.
I wore a black dress Bianca found in the hotel boutique. It concealed the medical support around my abdomen but could not hide my weakness.
Adrian wore a tuxedo.
No blood.
No visible weapons.
No sign that his newborn daughter had been taken.
We entered the ballroom together.
Hundreds of people turned.
Whispers followed us.
Some guests stared at my body, calculating the timing.
Others looked at Adrian, waiting for a statement.
He kept one hand at my back.
Not guiding me.
Supporting me.
“Do you see him?” I asked.
“No.”
“Carlo?”
“Near the stage.”
Carlo stood beside the mayor, smiling for photographers.
He looked untouched by the violence at the estate.
When he saw us, his smile widened.
Adrian’s hand became still against my back.
“Not here,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“You want to kill him.”
“I want to do worse.”
We approached the stage.
Carlo opened his arms.
“Adrian. Elena. What a wonderful surprise.”
I looked at him.
“You poisoned me.”
The mayor stepped away.
Several nearby guests fell silent.
Carlo’s smile remained.
“My dear, you have experienced a traumatic evening.”
“You took a housekeeper’s infant and used him as a threat.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Gabriel knows.”
For the first time, Carlo’s expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Adrian saw it.
“You didn’t know Gabriel took Sofia,” he said.
Carlo looked toward the cameras.
“This is hardly the place.”
“It is exactly the place.”
Adrian moved closer.
“You believed Gabriel was helping you remove me. You never understood that he was using you.”
Carlo’s eyes narrowed.
A microphone clicked on.
The ballroom lights dimmed.
The giant screens behind the stage came alive.
Gabriel appeared.
He sat inside a dark room holding Sofia against his chest.
She wore a white hospital blanket.
A small oxygen tube rested beneath her nose.
I stopped breathing.
“Sofia,” I whispered.
Gabriel looked directly into the camera.
“Good evening.”
Every conversation in the ballroom ended.
“My name is Gabriel Lorenzo Moretti.”
Carlo’s face drained of color.
Gabriel continued.
“For thirty-nine years, Vittorio Moretti’s family erased my father’s existence and denied me the name that belonged to me.”
Adrian stood motionless.
“I served Vittorio’s son. I protected his home. I buried his enemies. I bled for a family that treated me like a loyal animal.”
Sofia moved in his arms.
My knees weakened.
Adrian supported me.
Gabriel looked down at her.
“This child is not in danger. Unlike her father, I understand what it means to protect an heir.”
“Where are you?” Adrian demanded.
Gabriel smiled.
“You already know.”
The screens changed.
A live image showed the ballroom from above.
The camera was inside the hotel.
Guests began moving toward the exits.
The doors locked.
Carlo grabbed Adrian’s arm.
“What has he done?”
Adrian pushed him away.
“You helped him enter the security network.”
“I did not authorize this.”
“You attacked the estate.”
“Because Gabriel told me you planned to have me arrested.”
“You poisoned Elena.”
Carlo’s silence confirmed it.
A new image appeared.
Documents filled the screens.
Birth certificates.
Bank records.
Photographs.
The first page showed Gabriel as an infant in Vittorio Moretti’s arms.
Beneath it was a handwritten statement.
LORENZO’S SON MUST NEVER INHERIT.
Signed by Vittorio.
Gabriel’s voice filled the ballroom.
“My uncle stole my father’s companies, destroyed his name, and murdered him when he tried to return.”
Adrian stared at the screen.
“Vittorio killed Lorenzo,” Bianca whispered.
Gabriel continued.
“Tonight, the Moretti empire will return to the correct bloodline.”
The ballroom doors opened.
Men in hotel uniforms entered carrying weapons.
Guests screamed.
Carlo stepped backward.
“You said this was a negotiation.”
Gabriel appeared on the balcony above the stage.
He was no longer on a screen.
He stood in the ballroom holding Sofia.
A pistol rested against the blanket covering her.
Adrian moved in front of me.
Gabriel looked down at him.
“Kneel.”
The entire city watched.
Adrian Moretti had once fallen to his knees when he learned Sofia was his daughter.
Now the man who stole her demanded he do it again.
Adrian slowly lowered himself before eight hundred witnesses.
Gabriel smiled.
May you like
Then he handed Sofia to Carlo.
“Now,” he said, “choose which member of your family dies first.”
