Chapter 3 - The Drake Receipts
Sophia gasped, taking an involuntary half-step backward, her eyes widening in pure horror.
Vincent’s mouth opened, then snapped shut as he realized his airtight lie had been dismantled in seven seconds.
“You... you tracked my accounts?” Vincent stammered, the arrogance draining from his face.
Nathan Brooks calmly unzipped his leather briefcase, pulling out three manila folders stamped with red tabs.
He laid them in front of Richard Moretti, sliding them across the dark mahogany table with professional ease.
“Chairman Moretti, these are the itemized billing statements from the Drake Hotel for the past three weeks,” Nathan stated.
“Room service orders for two, champagne charges at 2:00 a.m., and spa treatments billed under Miss Carter’s name.”
Nathan pulled out a second stack of glossy photographs and laid them beside the receipts.
They were crystal-clear telephoto shots of Vincent and Sophia walking through the hotel lobby hand-in-hand.
Photographs of Vincent kissing Sophia’s neck inside the hotel elevator, and receipts for diamond jewelry purchased on Michigan Avenue.
Richard Moretti put on his gold reading glasses, slowly turning through each photograph without a single word.
The silence in the library was terrifying, heavy with the weight of sixty years of family reputation being crushed under cheap deceit.
Every ticking second from the grandfather clock sounded like a drumbeat counting down Vincent’s executive life.
“Is this the maritime acquisition presentation, Vincent?” Richard asked, his voice deathly calm.
Vincent swallowed hard, his collar suddenly looking three sizes too small for his trembling neck.
“Father, listen to me... it was a mistake! A momentary lapse of judgment!
Claire has been distant for months, focused on her family’s foundation, and Sophia was there supporting me!”
“Do not dare blame your wife for your lack of character, boy!” Richard roared, slamming his open palm onto the table.
The crack resonated like a rifle shot, making Sophia jump and bury her face in her hands.
Richard stood up, his tall, imposing frame casting a long shadow across the conference table.
“For thirty years, I built Moretti Holdings on the principle that a man’s word is his bond,” Richard snarled.
“Our partners trust us because we do not cheat, we do not lie, and we do not break our covenants!
You paraded your secretary through our corporate hotels while your wife sat alone in your home!”
Richard turned his burning gaze toward Sophia, whose legs were shaking so violently she had to hold onto the wall.
“Miss Carter, your employment at Moretti Holdings was terminated at 6:00 a.m. this morning by executive decree.
Security has already cleared your desk, and your access badges have been destroyed.”
“Mr. Moretti, please!” Sophia sobbed, tears ruining her foundation.
“I loved Vincent! He told me he was divorcing Claire! He promised me—”
“Get out of my house,” Richard interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper that brooked no argument.
“Before I instruct our legal team to audit every travel reimbursement you submitted over the last six months.”
Sophia didn't wait for another warning; she grabbed her coat, turned on her heels, and bolted through the library doors in tears.
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Vincent took a step after her, but the thunder of his father’s voice froze him in his tracks.
“Stay where you are, Vincent,” Richard commanded coldly. “We haven't even begun to settle your account.”
