Chapter 4: The Man Who Knew First
I had seen Richard Moretti exactly once.
He had come to the estate six months earlier, arriving without notice on a Tuesday afternoon.
I had been arranging files in the hallway outside Victor's office when the elevator opened and a man walked out who looked like Victor — same height, same dark hair — but wore it differently.
Where Victor moved like someone who had earned every room he walked into, Richard moved like someone who expected the room to already belong to him.
He had looked right through me.
I remembered thinking: *this is a man who does not see people like me.*
Now Victor was telling me that Richard had known about Noah.
Had known, and had said nothing.
"For how long?" I asked.
"I don't know yet." Victor picked up his phone and looked at the screen again.
"He called to warn me.
Or he called to find out how much I know.
I'm not certain which."
"What did he say exactly?"
"He said, 'I heard you took a drive across town tonight.
You should have called me first.'" Victor set the phone face-down on the table.
"He's been having me watched."
The ceiling above us creaked.
The children, moving around upstairs.
"What does he want?" I asked.
"Richard manages the family trust," Victor said.
"Has for twelve years.
If Noah is my son — my legal heir — the structure of that trust changes significantly."
I was thirteen.
I didn't know everything about trusts and inheritance.
But I understood enough.
"He doesn't want Noah to exist," I said.
Victor looked at me.
"No.
He doesn't."
The basement door opened.
Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Olivia." His voice was tight.
"Someone's outside.
A car.
It's been parked across the street since before he arrived." He nodded toward Victor.
"It wasn't there this morning."
Victor was already moving toward the stairs.
"Don't go up," I said, surprising myself.
He stopped.
"If Richard sent someone to watch," I said, "and they see you leave with your security team, they'll know what you found.
They'll move before you can do anything."
Victor studied me for a moment.
The same look he used to give me in the mansion when I had arranged something before he asked for it.
"How long have you been thinking like this?" he said.
"Since I had six people depending on me," I said.
He almost smiled.
It didn't quite make it.
"The car has been there since before I arrived," he said slowly.
"Which means Richard didn't send them in response to my call.
He sent them before.
He already knew I was coming here tonight."
"How?"
"Because he's known about this address for longer than tonight." Victor turned to Daniel.
"Is there a back exit?"
"Utility corridor," Daniel said.
"Comes out on the next block."
"Show me."
Daniel looked at me.
I nodded.
The three of us moved through the back of the basement, through a narrow corridor that smelled of old pipes and concrete.
Daniel pushed open a heavy door at the far end and cold air came through.
Victor stepped out, looked both directions, then turned back.
"I need to make two calls," he said.
"I need you to keep everyone inside and away from the front windows until I contact you.
Can you do that?"
"Yes," I said.
"I'll be back tomorrow morning.
Early."
"And if you're not?" Daniel said.
Victor reached into his jacket and took out a card.
He held it out to Daniel — not to me.
To Daniel.
"That's my direct line," he said.
"Not my office.
Not my assistant.
Me.
If anything happens before I return, you call that number."
Daniel took the card.
Looked at it.
Looked up.
"Why are you giving it to me?" he said.
"Because you're the one who'll actually use it," Victor said.
He disappeared into the dark of the next block.
Daniel and I stood in the corridor for a moment after he was gone.
"Do you trust him?" Daniel asked.
I thought about the way Victor had read Elena's letter twice.
The way his hands had gone still on his knees.
"I think he's in shock," I said.
"And I think he's angry.
And I think those are both good signs."
"That's not what I asked."
I looked at the card in Daniel's hand.
*Victor Moretti.
Direct.*
"Not yet," I said honestly.
"But I think we might have to."
We went back inside.
Lucas was waiting at the basement door.
He had been listening.
He always listened.
"The car outside," he said quietly.
"It left two minutes ago."
"How do you know?" I asked.
He held up an old tablet — cracked screen, barely functional — showing a grainy feed from a small camera he had rigged above the front entrance three weeks ago without telling anyone.
I stared at him.
"I wanted to know if anyone was watching us," he said simply.
I took the tablet from his hands and looked at the empty street on the screen.
The car was gone.
But that wasn't the part that made my chest tighten.
May you like
It was the timestamp in the corner of the feed.
The car had arrived four hours before Victor had.
