Chapter 11 - The Moretti Bloodline
The headlines began before sunrise.
MORETTI EMPIRE UNDER FEDERAL REVIEW.
HIDDEN TRUST TIED TO SECRET HEIR.
RICCI ARRESTED IN MARINA PLOT.
Maria saw none of them until Mrs. Bellini placed a tablet face down on the kitchen table and said, “Do not read poison before breakfast.”
Sophia was asleep upstairs, finally. Aleandro had posted guards outside the brownstone, but none inside. Maria had insisted.
He had agreed.
That unnerved her.
Powerful men did not usually become agreeable unless they wanted something.
At eight in the morning, Detective Price arrived with two coffees and a folder. Aleandro came with her, but remained near the doorway until Maria looked at him.
“You can sit,” she said.
He did.
Detective Price opened the folder. “Mrs. Alvarez, I need to explain what we know in clear terms.”
Maria wrapped both hands around the coffee, though she did not drink.
“Miguel discovered financial records tied to construction contracts. Some were connected to Marco Ricci. Some reached higher. He stored copies at Pier 47, likely because he realized police channels were compromised.”
Maria’s throat tightened. “Did he know about Aleandro?”
Detective Price glanced at him.
Aleandro answered. “No evidence he did.”
“Did he know Vincent Moretti was his father?”
Price slid a page forward. “We believe he suspected. There are searches on his laptop. Adoption records. Old addresses. Your mother-in-law’s maiden name.”
Maria pressed a hand to her mouth.
Miguel’s mother had died years earlier. She had taken secrets with her, but apparently not all of them.
“And Sophia?” Maria asked. “The money?”
“The trust in Sophia’s name appears to have been created by Vincent Moretti years ago, then used after his death by several people to move funds quietly. Marco discovered it and began stealing through connected shell companies. Vitale found out and used it to pressure him.”
Maria looked at Aleandro. “Your family used my daughter’s name like a hiding place.”
Aleandro accepted the blow. “Yes.”
“She was a baby.”
“Yes.”
“She lost her father because grown men were afraid of bank records.”
His face tightened. “Yes.”
Maria stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“I want all of it gone.”
Detective Price nodded. “That can be arranged through court proceedings.”
“No,” Maria said. “I mean I don’t want a dollar from that blood money.”
Aleandro looked up.
Detective Price said gently, “It may legally belong to Sophia.”
“Then it can legally be placed somewhere that helps children whose parents don’t come home.”
Aleandro stared at her.
Maria’s voice trembled, but did not break. “My daughter will not grow up fed by the same machine that killed her father.”
For the first time, Detective Price smiled. “I’ll note that.”
Aleandro remained silent.
Maria turned to him. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want from us now that you know Sophia is your blood?”
The question sat between them like a loaded weapon.
Aleandro could have said family.
He could have said responsibility.
He could have said protection.
Instead, he told the truth.
“I want nothing you do not freely give.”
Maria studied him.
“I will ensure Sophia is safe,” he continued. “I will cooperate with the investigation. I will repair what can be repaired, though I understand some things cannot be. After that, you decide whether I remain in her life.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Men like you don’t step back.”
“I am trying to become a different kind of man.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It is inconvenient in almost every way.”
Despite herself, Maria almost smiled.
Then Sophia appeared on the stairs wearing Mrs. Bellini’s oversized robe like a royal cape.
“Is it still Family Day?” she asked sleepily.
Maria’s face softened. “No, baby. Family Day was yesterday.”
Sophia looked disappointed.
Aleandro stood. “There will be other days.”
Sophia looked at him. “Can I borrow you again?”
Maria froze.
Aleandro looked at Maria first.
Sophia noticed.
For once, she waited.
Maria closed her eyes briefly.
Then she said, “Maybe for ice cream. In public. With me there. And no secret cars.”
Sophia cheered.
Aleandro nodded solemnly. “Those terms are acceptable.”
Detective Price gathered her folder, hiding a smile.
But outside, beyond the brownstone windows, a photographer lowered his camera and sent the image to every news desk in the city.
By noon, America had a new obsession.
The ruthless Mafia boss.
May you like
The widowed maid.
And the little girl who borrowed him for one day.
