Chapter 6 - The Trap at Dawn
By 6:00 AM, the sun began to break over the horizon in pale, icy streaks of grey and gold.
In the formal library of the main house, Charles Bellamy, Isabella Romano, and Dominic Moretti sat under the watchful eyes of four armed guards. They were exhausted, angry, and growing increasingly frantic.
The heavy double doors opened.
Vincent walked inside. He was covered in mud and rain, his hair damp, his eyes bloodshot, but his posture was that of an emperor ready to hand down executions.
I stood behind him in the doorway, holding the leather briefcase we had pulled from the boathouse vault.
Dominic stood up immediately. “Vincent! This is insane! You’ve held us hostage all night! The syndicate board is already calling my phone!”
Vincent walked over to the mahogany desk, placing Sophia’s journal flat on the wood.
“Sophia left a record, Dominic,” Vincent said quietly.
Dominic’s face paled, but he forced a bitter laugh. “A journal? In a court of law, a dead woman’s diary is hearsay. You have no forensic proof of anything.”
“I don't need a court of law for you, Dominic,” Vincent said softly. “This is a family matter.”
Charles Bellamy leaned back in his chair, adjusting his silver wire-rimmed glasses. “Vincent, listen to me carefully as your legal counsel. Whatever emotional distress you are experiencing, taking extrajudicial action against your cousin and your betrothed will destroy the Moretti empire. The board will remove you within twenty-four hours.”
“You are no longer my legal counsel, Charles,” Vincent said. He turned to me. “Hannah, open the briefcase.”
I stepped forward, unbuckling the brass clasps of the leather briefcase. Inside were thirty flash drives, hundreds of wire-transfer receipts, and a series of covertly recorded audio files documenting eight years of systematic embezzlement by Charles Bellamy and Dominic Moretti.
And among those files was an original, unedited copy of the Moretti Family Continuity Trust.
The original document stated that upon Vincent’s death or incapacitation, sixty percent of the entire empire would pass directly into a trust managed by his wife, Sophia—and upon her death, to a charity designated for pediatric medical care.
Dominic and Charles had forged the amendment to name themselves as the sole trustees, cutting Sophia out completely and creating a financial motive to eliminate her.
“Isabella,” Vincent said, turning his cold gaze onto his fiancé. “Did you know about the Newport account?”
May you like
Isabella’s breath hitched. She looked at Charles, then at Dominic, her composure completely shattering. “Vincent... I... I didn't know they were going to hurt her! They told me she left! They told me she took fifty million dollars and went to Europe!”
“You wore her pendant, Isabella,” Vincent whispered, his voice dripping with pure disgust. “You sat in her chair at my table.”
