Chapter 4 - The Patriarch's Strike
Leonardo Moretti rose slowly from his high-backed leather chair, leaning heavily on his silver cane.
Despite his frail frame, his presence commanded the entire room. He walked around the massive desk, stopping three feet in front of Vincent, who remained kneeling on the Persian rug.
"You thought you were clever, Vincent," Leonardo said, looking down at his grandson with cold disappointment. "You thought because you graduated top of your class at Wharton and doubled our freight margins that you were smarter than the men who built this name."
"Grandfather, I built the modern logistics division—"
"You built nothing without our capital!" Leonardo’s cane struck the floor with a resounding crack. "You inherited a machine forged through sixty years of sacrifice, and you put that entire machine at risk because you couldn't control your private appetites."
Leonardo turned his gaze to Arthur. "Arthur. Call the general counsel."
Vincent scrambled to his feet, panic flaring across his features. "Grandfather, wait! What are you doing?"
"What should have been done five years ago when you first put this girl on the executive payroll," Leonardo answered without looking back. "You are hereby relieved of your duties as Chief Executive Officer of Moretti Enterprises, effective at five o'clock this afternoon."
"You can't do that!" Vincent roared, his face flushing crimson. "The board will never approve a leadership change without thirty days' notice! The stock will plummet ten percent by tomorrow morning!"
"The board answers to me, Vincent," Arthur said calmly, pulling a slim leather notebook from his pocket. "I hold thirty-four percent of the voting trust. Your grandfather holds forty-one percent. Between the two of us, we don't need a thirty-day notice. We need thirty seconds."
Vincent looked between his father and grandfather, his arrogance completely crumbling into sheer terror. He was realizing, for the first time in his pampered, untouchable life, that the empire did not belong to him.
It belonged to the lineage.
"And what about the house?" Arthur asked, looking at Sophia, who was still weeping against the bookcase.
"The Barrington property remains in Miss Reynolds' name," Leonardo said, his tone icy and detached. "We do not litigate against children of Moretti blood. Lily will receive a monthly stipend from an educational trust administered solely by Arthur, sufficient for her schooling and healthcare until she reaches twenty-five."
Sophia lifted her tear-streaked face, letting out a ragged sigh of relief.
"However," Leonardo continued, his voice dropping into a register that made Sophia's breath catch in her throat. "Miss Reynolds' employment with Moretti Enterprises is terminated immediately. She will surrender all building passes, all digital access keys, and all corporate credit cards before she leaves this room."
"Mr. Moretti, please," Sophia begged, stepping forward with clasped hands. "I have no other income! My entire career has been with Vincent!"
"You have an eight-million-dollar mansion, Miss Reynolds," Leonardo replied without a trace of mercy. "Sell it and buy an apartment. Or live in it and learn how to pay the property taxes on your own. You made your bargain with a fool, and now the fool has no money to give you."
Leonardo turned his back on them, walking toward the sofa where I sat holding Leo.
May you like
His harsh, withered face softened instantly as his eyes settled on my sleeping son.
"Claire," the old patriarch murmured, his voice gentle and filled with genuine remorse. "The Moretti name has failed you today. But the Moretti blood will never abandon you or your son."
