Chapter 8 - The Empire Began to FallBy sunrise, news helicopters circled Vincent’s estate.
Television networks ran photographs of armed federal agents carrying boxes from Moretti properties.
Reporters gathered outside the gates.
MORETTI CRIME EMPIRE UNDER FEDERAL INVESTIGATION.
VINCENT MORETTI FACES POSSIBLE RACKETEERING CHARGES.
Chelsea watched the headlines from the kitchen.
Vincent stood behind her.
“That’s what Dominic meant.”
Marco entered carrying files.
“Some of the signatures are real.”
Vincent nodded.
“Of course.”
Chelsea turned.
“You signed these?”
“Documents associated with legitimate businesses. Dominic could have inserted transactions beneath umbrella authorizations.”
“Can you prove that?”
Marco’s silence answered.
Vincent looked exhausted.
Chelsea touched his hand.
“We’ll figure it out.”
He looked at her.
“You should leave.”
“No.”
“Chelsea.”
“No.”
“I may be arrested.”
“Then I’ll visit.”
“You could still be targeted.”
“I was targeted when I worked for minimum wage plus tips.”
“That’s not funny.”
“A little.”
His smile never came.
Chelsea understood.
Vincent was terrified.
Not of prison.
Of losing control over whether she survived.
Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
“They’re at the gate.”
Vincent straightened.
Federal agents entered minutes later.
The lead investigator was Special Agent Rebecca Kane.
Mid-forties.
Calm.
Direct.
She presented a warrant.
“Mr. Moretti, we need access to your office.”
Vincent nodded.
“My attorney is coming.”
Kane’s gaze moved toward Chelsea’s bruised cheek.
“Miss Dawson?”
Chelsea froze.
“You know me?”
“Your kidnapping was reported.”
Kane looked toward Vincent.
“And because someone attempted to kill you twice in four days.”
Chelsea folded her arms.
“Busy week.”
The agent almost smiled.
Then her attention sharpened.
“Dominic Russo has been providing evidence against Mr. Moretti for eighteen months.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Where is Dominic?”
“We were hoping you knew.”
“I don’t.”
Kane studied him.
“He claims you ordered several murders.”
Chelsea stared.
Vincent did not react.
“Names?”
Kane listed them.
Vincent’s face remained impassive until one.
“Anthony Bell.”
Chelsea noticed.
“Who?”
Vincent answered.
“An accountant.”
Kane continued.
“Bell disappeared six years ago after investigating Moretti construction contracts.”
Vincent looked at Marco.
Marco went pale.
Chelsea realized something.
“What?”
Marco said, “Anthony Bell worked with Isabella.”
The room changed.
Agent Kane looked sharply at him.
“How do you know that?”
Marco hesitated.
Vincent answered.
“Because we recently discovered Isabella was investigating Dominic before her death.”
Kane stared.
“Isabella Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“The car bombing?”
“Yes.”
Kane closed her folder.
“Mr. Moretti, you need to come with me.”
Chelsea stepped forward.
“Is he under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because if what he is saying is true, our investigation may have been compromised for years.”
At the federal building, Vincent shared Isabella’s recording.
Marco shared the letter.
Gabriel, treated at a private hospital under guard, agreed to testify.
Suddenly Dominic’s perfect case looked less perfect.
But Agent Kane had bad news.
“The financial records are still devastating.”
Vincent leaned back.
“Can you distinguish forged authorization?”
“Eventually.”
“How long?”
“Months.”
Chelsea sat beside him.
Kane continued.
“And there’s another issue.”
She placed a photograph on the table.
Dominic entering a private airfield.
Timestamp: that morning.
“He’s leaving the country.”
Vincent stood.
“Where?”
“Plane is registered to a shell company.”
“Stop it.”
“We tried.”
“What happened?”
“It never departed.”
Vincent frowned.
Kane changed photographs.
The aircraft burned on the runway.
One body recovered.
“Dominic?”
“Dental records will take time.”
Vincent looked at Chelsea.
She saw suspicion in his eyes immediately.
Too neat.
Again.
Chelsea said, “He isn’t dead.”
Kane looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because apparently nobody in this story dies when they’re supposed to.”
Even Kane laughed.
Then Marco called from outside.
He sounded urgent.
“Chelsea needs to get back to the estate.”
Vincent asked, “Why?”
“Rosa is missing.”
Vincent went pale.
“What?”
“She left twenty minutes ago.”
“With guards?”
“No.”
Chelsea stood.
“Why would she leave?”
Marco hesitated.
“She received a phone call.”
“From who?”
“We traced it.”
Vincent already knew.
“Dominic.”
Rosa had left willingly.
Security footage showed her walking through a service gate and entering a black sedan.
No struggle.
No weapon visible.
Vincent replayed the footage.
“She knows something.”
Chelsea stood beside him.
“About Dominic?”
“Or Isabella.”
Marco arrived from the hospital.
“Gabriel wants to talk.”
They connected him by secure video.
His shoulder was bandaged.
Gabriel looked grim.
“Rosa knew.”
Vincent frowned.
“Knew what?”
“Dominic and your father were partners.”
“That’s not new.”
“No.”
Gabriel leaned closer to the camera.
“Rosa was their bookkeeper.”
Vincent stared.
“My aunt?”
“She kept records.”
Chelsea thought of the warm older woman making bacon and teasing Vincent about kissing her.
“You’re saying Rosa helped them?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“She collected evidence against them.”
Vincent’s expression shifted.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t she give it to me?”
“Because Isabella had it.”
Silence.
Gabriel continued.
“Isabella planned to hand everything to federal investigators.”
Chelsea closed her eyes.
“Then she died.”
“Yes.”
Vincent asked, “The evidence?”
“Disappeared.”
Chelsea remembered something.
“The music box.”
Vincent turned toward her.
“Isabella’s music box had the memory card.”
“Yes.”
“What if there was more?”
Marco searched the box.
Nothing.
Chelsea studied it.
Old silver.
Small hinges.
Delicate carved bottom.
She turned it over.
A seam.
“Marco.”
He brought a tool.
The false bottom opened.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
Vincent stared.
A number was engraved on it.
317.
Gabriel whispered through the screen.
“Union Station.”
Vincent looked at him.
“What?”
“Old private lockers.”
Chelsea’s heart began pounding.
“Isabella left evidence in a locker.”
Marco grabbed his coat.
Vincent stopped him.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
“If Dominic has Rosa, he knows about this.”
Chelsea understood.
“He wants us to find it.”
“Or bring the key to him.”
Vincent’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Dominic’s voice came through.
“Hello, Vincent.”
Vincent’s face became stone.
“Where is Rosa?”
“Safe.”
“If you touch her—”
“I have no intention of hurting her.”
“Then release her.”
“Bring me the key.”
Vincent looked at Chelsea.
Dominic continued.
“Locker 317. Midnight.”
“Why would I?”
“Because Isabella didn’t leave only financial records.”
Vincent went silent.
“She left something about you.”
“What?”
Dominic laughed softly.
“The truth about why she married you.”
Then the line went dead.
Chelsea looked at Vincent.
May you like
For the first time since meeting him, she saw fear that had nothing to do with death.
It was the fear that his most precious memory might have been a lie.
Related Stories
