Chapter 2 - The Syndicate’s Shadow
The name hung in the morning air like a dropped blade. Moretti. Even in a quiet suburban neighborhood miles away from Chicago’s underground docks, the name carried a dark, undeniable weight. Dante Moretti wasn't just a businessman; he was the head of the Moretti syndicate, a feared name whispered in boardrooms and back alleys alike.
Camille’s hand tightened on the doorframe. "Your sister?"
Dante Moretti stepped onto the porch, his dark eyes sweeping over Camille with an intense, assessing gaze that missed nothing—not the pale exhaustion on her face, not the discarded wedding invitations on the hall table, and certainly not the way Nadia instinctively stepped in front of her like a shield.
"Mara," Dante said flatly, pulling a slim leather cardholder from his breast pocket without offering it, as if his mere presence was identification enough. "Mara Radcliffe. She is my younger sister. And eleven weeks ago, she was trapped in a manipulative, suffocating affair with a liar named Trevor Ames who swore he was single, swore he was leaving his fiancée, and swore he was going to marry her."
Nadia gasped, her jaw dropping. "Wait. Trevor was cheating on her too?"
"Trevor," Dante corrected with a cold, humorless smile, "is a master of overlapping lives. He led Mara to believe he was trapped in a loveless relationship with a woman who refused to grant him a divorce, promising her that the baby they conceived would be born into a legitimate home. At the same time, he told Camille that Mara was just a crazy stalker from his past. He played both sides right down the middle, collecting stability from Camille and indulgence from Mara, until the walls started caving in."
Camille felt the floor sway beneath her feet. The pieces of the puzzle were clicking together with sickening speed. That was why Trevor had looked so terrified last night when she discovered the ultrasound. He wasn't just scared of losing Camille’s trust—he was terrified that the Moretti family would find out he had been playing their sister for a fool.
"Where is he?" Dante asked, his voice dropping into a register that made the hairs on Camille’s arms stand up.
"I don't know," Camille said honestly. "He packed his bags and cleared out before sunrise. His phone is dead. His mother claims she doesn't know anything."
Dante studied Camille’s face for a long, agonizing moment, searching for any sign of deception. Satisfied that she was just as blindsided as his own family, a muscle ticked along his jawline.
"He’s running," Dante murmured, more to himself than to them. "He thinks if he hides out long enough, the storm will pass. He doesn't understand that when you steal from the Moretti family, you don't get to keep the collateral."
"Wait a minute," Nadia stepped forward, crossing her arms defensively. "You talk like you’re going to execute him in a back alley. My best friend’s wedding was supposed to happen in six hours, her life just blew up, and you show up looking like an extra from The Godfather talking about collateral?"
Dante’s gaze flicked to Nadia, cold and sharp enough to freeze boiling water. Yet, he didn't snap. Instead, he gave a slow, respectful nod.
"You have every right to be angry, Ms. Brooks. Your friend was victimized by a coward. But make no mistake—Trevor Ames didn't just break Camille’s heart. He committed massive financial fraud against Moretti-backed shipping ventures in Chicago, using Mara’s trust funds to secure the very suburban house he was planning to move Camille into." Dante looked back at Camille. "He was building an empire on double crosses, funding his life with you using capital he stole from my sister's accounts."
The silence that followed was deafening. Camille stared out at the street where the black sedan idled quietly. The man she had loved for two years—the man who was supposed to slide a platinum band onto her finger tomorrow—never existed. He was a phantom built of stolen money, fabricated devotion, and overlapping lies.
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"What do you want from me, Mr. Moretti?" Camille asked, her voice steadying as a fierce, cold resolve took root in her chest.
"I want to find him," Dante said simply. "And I have a feeling that if we pool our resources, we can find out exactly where a terrified, broke fraudster runs when the house of cards finally collapses."
