Chapter 12 - The Brother Who Was Buried
Dominic did not sleep that night.
At two in the morning, Hannah found him standing barefoot in the penthouse study, surrounded by twelve-year-old police files Luca had recovered from private storage.
Photographs covered the desk.
A burned sedan.
A hotel ballroom.
Blood on marble.
Adrian Moretti smiling beside Dominic at a charity gala two weeks before his supposed death.
Hannah leaned against the doorway.
“You should rest.”
“I rested for twelve years because I believed there was nothing left to find.”
“That is not remotely true.”
Dominic rubbed his eyes.
“I buried him, Hannah.”
“I know.”
“I stood over an empty coffin.”
“You didn’t know it was empty.”
“I should have.”
She crossed the room.
Dominic looked exhausted in a way money could not repair.
“My father handled everything,” he said. “The identification. The funeral. The police liaison. I was twenty-eight and furious. I wanted Rossi’s organization destroyed because I believed they killed Adrian.”
“And your father encouraged that belief?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dominic looked at an old photograph.
“Because hatred made me useful.”
Hannah hated the answer because it fit too well.
Dominic’s father, Salvatore Moretti, had built an empire from shipping, construction, political influence, and fear. Dominic had spent years transforming the legal businesses while cutting away the criminal remains.
Maybe the greatest lie had survived the longest.
Luca entered quietly.
“I traced the prepaid phone.”
Dominic looked up.
“And?”
“Purchased with cash in Newark yesterday. Camera footage shows a man in a baseball cap. Facial recognition returned nothing.”
“Voice analysis?”
“Already running.”
Hannah noticed Luca carrying another folder.
“What’s that?”
“A foundation audit.”
Dominic frowned.
“What does my foundation have to do with Adrian?”
Luca set the folder down.
“Someone transferred two million dollars into the Cole-Moretti Foundation this morning.”
Hannah stared at him.
“Donated?”
“Technically.”
“From whom?”
“A shell corporation registered in Delaware called A.M. Holdings.”
Dominic went still.
Adrian Michael Moretti.
Hannah understood immediately.
“He’s proving he has access to money.”
“Or proving he has access to us,” Dominic said.
The penthouse phone rang.
Dominic answered.
His attorney, Evelyn Shaw, spoke urgently from the other end.
Dominic listened for thirty seconds.
Then his expression hardened.
“What happened?” Hannah asked.
He ended the call.
“The two-million-dollar transfer triggered an automatic compliance review.”
“That sounds manageable.”
“It would be if that were the only issue.”
Dominic picked up his jacket.
“Someone also sent federal regulators documents claiming the foundation has been laundering money through medical grants.”
Hannah felt her stomach drop.
“That’s insane.”
“The documents include forged approvals with your signature.”
“My signature?”
“Yes.”
Anger replaced fear.
“That foundation helps people who can’t fight corporations. Whoever is doing this is using sick workers as ammunition.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened.
“Which means this isn’t only about Adrian.”
Within an hour, Moretti Global’s crisis team filled the conference room.
Accountants examined records.
Attorneys contacted investigators.
Luca coordinated security.
Hannah sat at the head of the table beside Dominic while television stations outside began reporting rumors of a federal investigation.
By sunrise, reporters crowded the street.
The headline spreading online was brutal:
BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE LINKED TO POSSIBLE CHARITY FRAUD.
Mason called immediately.
“I’m coming over.”
“No,” Hannah said. “Go to work.”
“My sister’s being accused of stealing from injured workers.”
“And the worst thing you can do is give photographers footage of us panicking.”
Silence.
Then Mason sighed.
“You really married the right psychopath.”
Dominic, standing nearby, almost smiled.
“Tell Mason I heard that.”
“He knows.”
The elevators suddenly locked.
A security alarm flashed.
Luca touched his earpiece.
“Package downstairs.”
“What kind?” Dominic asked.
“Courier box. No return address.”
“Scan it.”
“Already did. No explosives.”
Ten minutes later, the box entered the conference room.
Inside was a videotape.
An actual VHS cassette.
Hannah stared.
“That thing belongs in a museum.”
Dominic didn’t laugh.
Luca found an old player from archival storage.
The television screen flickered.
A date appeared.
Twelve years earlier.
The camera showed a warehouse.
Two men entered the frame.
One was Salvatore Moretti.
The other was Adrian.
Younger.
Terrified.
Alive.
The recording crackled.
“You’re leaving tonight,” Salvatore told him.
“I’m telling Dominic.”
“You tell Dominic and he follows you. Then both my sons become liabilities.”
Adrian shoved his father.
“You lied to him his whole life!”
“I built him!”
“You turned him into a weapon!”
Salvatore stepped closer.
“Go to Montreal. Take the documents. Stay dead.”
Adrian’s voice broke.
“And Dominic?”
“He will mourn.”
The video cut to black.
Nobody in the conference room moved.
Dominic stared at the empty screen.
His father had not merely hidden Adrian.
He had deliberately broken Dominic to protect something else.
Then new words appeared.
ASK YOUR BROTHER WHAT WAS IN THE DOCUMENTS.
Hannah looked at Dominic.
“What documents?”
Dominic slowly shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
The screen flickered one final time.
May you like
A second message appeared.
YOU HAVE SEVENTY-TWO HOURS BEFORE THE WHOLE CITY DOES.
