Chapter 5: The Brother's Move
Vincent Moretti called at noon.
Dominic was in the east sitting room when his phone lit up with the name.
He let it ring twice.
Then he answered.
"Vincent."
"Dominic." His brother's voice was warm, easy, the voice he used at family dinners and charity galas.
"I heard the party ended early.
Is Ethan all right?"
"He's fine."
"Thank God.
What happened?
Someone said there was a problem with the kitchen?"
"Something like that."
A brief pause.
"You sound tired.
Did you sleep?"
"Not much."
"Understandable." Another pause, shorter.
"Listen, I wanted to come by today.
Bring Ethan a gift.
He didn't get to finish his party."
Dominic looked at the window.
The grounds were quiet.
Two of Marco's men were visible near the garden wall.
"Not today," Dominic said.
"Ethan's resting."
"Of course.
Tomorrow, then?"
"I'll let you know."
The warmth in Vincent's voice cooled by half a degree.
Not enough that a stranger would notice.
Dominic noticed.
"Is everything all right between us?" Vincent asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"You sound different."
"I told you.
I didn't sleep."
"Right." The warmth came back, fully restored.
"Well.
Give Ethan my love.
And Dominic — if there's anything you need, anything at all, you know I'm here."
"I know," Dominic said.
"I'll be in touch."
He ended the call.
Marco was in the doorway.
"He called the Cayman number again at eleven-forty," Marco said.
"Eight-minute call."
"What do we have on that number?"
"It routes to a holding company registered in Nassau.
The holding company owns a small logistics firm in Newark." Marco set a folder on the table.
"The logistics firm has been moving cargo through two of your shipping terminals for the past eighteen months."
Dominic opened the folder.
"Under whose authorization?"
"Yours.
Or rather — your signature.
Except Frank's office confirmed this morning that you never signed those contracts."
Dominic looked at the signature on the first page.
It was close.
Very close.
Someone had practiced it.
"Vincent has been running cargo through my terminals using a forged signature," Dominic said.
"For at least eighteen months.
Possibly longer."
"What cargo?"
Marco's expression was careful.
"We don't know yet.
The manifests list machine parts.
But the weight discrepancies on three of the shipments don't match."
Dominic closed the folder.
His brother hadn't just tried to kjll Ethan.
He had been building something inside Dominic's own organization for a year and a half — hiding it behind Dominic's name, using Dominic's infrastructure, waiting for Ethan to be gone so that inheritance would shift and control would follow.
"Frank is filing an emergency injunction this afternoon," Dominic said.
"Freeze everything connected to that logistics firm.
I want the terminal managers who processed those shipments brought in separately — not together — and I want their statements before they have a chance to compare notes."
"And Vincent?"
Dominic stood.
"Not yet.
I want everything documented first.
Every forged signature.
Every shipment.
Every call to that Cayman number." He straightened his jacket.
"When we move on Vincent, I want it to be the last move.
Not the first."
Marco nodded.
He was almost at the door when Dominic spoke again.
"Elena's accident.
Seven years ago.
I need you to pull everything.
The original investigation file, the responding officers' names, the tow company, the road condition reports." He paused.
"Everything."
Marco turned slowly.
He looked at Dominic for a moment.
"You think it wasn't an accident."
Dominic didn't answer.
Marco left.
The sitting room was quiet.
On the side table was a glass of water Sophia had left there that morning without being asked.
He hadn't noticed it until now.
He picked it up and drank it.
Then Frank Deluca called.
"I have Vincent's financial records," Frank said.
"Dominic.
You need to sit down."
"I'm standing."
"Sit down anyway."
He didn't.
But he listened.
And by the time Frank finished, the glass was back on the table, and Dominic's hand was very still.
Vincent had taken out a life insurance policy on Ethan fourteen months ago.
He had listed himself as the sole beneficiary.
He had done it through a shell company so the name Moretti didn't appear on any of the paperwork.
Ethan was eight years old.
Someone had insured his life for four million dollars and hidden it behind three layers of corporate paperwork.
"How did he get Ethan's information?" Dominic asked.
His voice was completely flat.
"We're still tracing it.
But Dominic—" Frank stopped.
"There's something else."
"Tell me."
"The same shell company took out a policy seven years ago.
On Elena."
The room didn't move.
May you like
"It paid out," Frank said quietly.
"Thirty days after the accident."
