Chapter 7 - The Unraveling Web
Dante picked up the tablet, swiping to unlock the secure video transmission. On screen, Vanessa Sinclair sat in a sterile interrogation room, handcuffed to the stainless steel table. Her hair was tangled, her eyes bloodshot and sunken. Sitting opposite her were Special Agent Miller and the federal district attorney.
“Play the audio,” Isabella said, leaning forward against her pillows.
Dante tapped the speaker icon, setting the tablet between them on the hospital bed.
Vanessa’s voice rasped through the speakers, cracked and bitter.
“...You think my father acted alone?” Vanessa laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Victor was just the muscle. He needed the Moretti shipping docks to move the contraband. But the plan to replace Isabella wasn't his idea. It came from inside the Moretti boardroom.”
Dante’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening on the edge of the mattress. “What is she talking about?”
Agent Miller’s voice sounded over the recording: “Name the conspirator, Vanessa. On the record.”
Vanessa leaned into the microphone, a venomous smile touching her chapped lips. “Arthur Vance. Dante’s senior vice president and trustee of the Moretti Family Foundation. Arthur approached us six months ago. He knew Dante had rewritten his personal will to give Isabella total operational control of the offshore shipping fleet. Arthur couldn't stomach the thought of an ex-waitress sitting at the head of the boardroom table. He provided my father with Dante’s private security codes and orchestrated the forged medical proxies.”
Isabella gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. “Arthur? But... Arthur was your father’s closest friend, Dante! He was at our wedding! He gave the opening toast!”
Dante rose slowly from the chair, the atmosphere in the room dropping to sub-zero temperatures. The warmth and vulnerability he had shown moments ago vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating brilliance.
“Arthur managed the legacy trust accounts,” Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “He was the only person besides Marco who knew the reset combination for the master bedroom blast doors. That’s how Sinclair’s mercenaries breached the perimeter so easily.”
“Boss,” Marco’s voice came through Dante’s earpiece. Marco was standing guard outside the hospital door. “Our surveillance team just flagged Arthur Vance. He just boarded a private Gulfstream at Gary Airport, taxiing for takeoff toward the Caymans. He transferred four hundred million dollars from the foundation escrow ten minutes ago.”
Isabella looked at her husband. “He’s running.”
“He thinks he is,” Dante replied, his eyes dark with lethal intent. He pulled his master phone from his pocket, dialing the direct line to the Chicago Air Traffic Control Director—a man whose career Dante had funded fifteen years prior.
“Ground the Gulfstream on runway four,” Dante commanded without greeting. “Declare an emergency mechanical recall. Lock the landing gear remotely.”
“Understood, Mr. Moretti. Shutting down the runway now.”
Dante hung up and looked at Isabella. “I need to handle this. Personally.”
Isabella shook her head, reaching out and grabbing the hem of his sweater. “No, Dante. Not with guns. Not in an alleyway. Arthur wants the world to think we are dangerous criminals who don't deserve this legacy. We beat him with the law. We beat him publicly, in front of the very board members he tried to manipulate.”
Dante paused, looking down at his wife. A slow, proud smile broke through his grim expression.
“You want to hold a board meeting?” he asked softly.
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“I am the majority shareholder,” Isabella smiled, her chestnut eyes flashing with power. “Set up a global video conference in twenty minutes. It’s time the board met the new chairperson.”
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