Chapter 3 - The Empty Penthouse
Vincent Moretti stepped out of the private elevator at seven in the evening, holding a massive bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.
He had spent the afternoon closing an eight-figure partnership and buying an apology diamond necklace from Cartier that cost more than most family homes. He felt a fleeting sense of pride, convincing himself he was doing all this to secure his family's generational dynasty.
"Clara?" he called out, his deep voice carrying through the vaulted foyer. "Maria? Where is everyone?"
Silence answered him, heavy and thick as a tomb.
He kicked off his shoes and walked toward the nursery, a smirk playing on his lips as he prepared to show Clara the jewelry box. He pushed open the white wooden door, expecting to see his wife rocking their son in the custom glider he had ordered from Italy.
The nursery was completely gutted.
The handcrafted mahogany crib was gone. The clothes hangers swayed empty inside the open closet. The plush blue carpet showed only the faint square impressions where baby furniture had stood hours earlier.
Vincent dropped the roses, their scarlet petals scattering across the hardwood floor like fresh blood.
"Clara!" he roared, sprinting toward the master bedroom with his heart pounding against his throat like a sledgehammer.
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Her closet doors hung wide open, showing bare shelves where hundreds of thousands of dollars in designer dresses and shoes remained untouched. She had taken only her old flannel shirts, her worn sneakers, and the framed photograph of her father taken ten years before.
Sitting alone on the marble table were the two crisp white envelopes with his name printed across the front.
