Chapter 10 - The Billionaire’s Son
By noon, Gabriel’s face was everywhere.
Someone had leaked a photograph taken through the Moretti estate gates.
Not a clear one.
Just enough.
A small boy wrapped in a blanket.
Salvatore standing beside him.
Headlines did the rest.
SECRET MORETTI HEIR?
WHO IS THE MYSTERY CHILD?
BILLIONAIRE’S LOST SON EMERGES FROM ORPHANAGE
Gabriel stared at the television.
“Turn it off,” Salvatore said.
Rosa did.
“Am I famous?”
“No.”
“They said I am.”
“They’re wrong about many things.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“They said you’re a criminal.”
The room went silent.
Salvatore could have lied.
He didn’t.
“I’ve done criminal things.”
Gabriel’s eyes dropped.
“But are you bad?”
That question hurt more than bullets ever had.
Salvatore sat across from him.
“Sometimes I have been.”
“That’s not the same answer.”
“No.”
Salvatore exhaled.
“I’ve hurt people.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes to protect my family. Sometimes because I was angry. Sometimes because I convinced myself there was no other choice.”
“Did Mom know?”
“Yes.”
“And she still loved you?”
“For reasons I never deserved.”
Gabriel considered that.
“Are you going to hurt Vittorio?”
Salvatore glanced toward Carmine.
“Yes.”
Gabriel’s small face tightened.
“Kill him?”
Salvatore did not answer.
The boy looked away.
A few hours ago, Salvatore would have considered that question simple.
Now he imagined Gabriel watching him for years.
Learning what a man did with anger.
What a father taught without speaking.
“I don’t know,” Salvatore said finally.
Gabriel looked surprised.
Salvatore was too.
Carmine entered.
“Federal agents at the front gate.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Warrant?”
“Yes.”
“For?”
“Financial records and human trafficking evidence.”
Salvatore’s jaw tightened.
“Let them in.”
Vincent stared.
“Are you serious?”
“If Dominic leaked ledgers, fighting federal agents makes us look guilty.”
“We are guilty of half the financial charges.”
“Then call the lawyers.”
“You hate lawyers.”
“Today I hate prison more.”
Federal agents entered fifteen minutes later.
The lead investigator was Special Agent Rebecca Sloan.
Forty-one.
No-nonsense expression.
Eyes that had probably dismantled men who thought expensive suits counted as armor.
She met Salvatore in the foyer.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Agent.”
“We have authority to search business records, digital systems, and certain areas of this residence.”
“You’ll stay away from the child.”
“I need to speak with him.”
“No.”
“He may be a witness.”
“He’s eight.”
“And possibly the only surviving witness to multiple felonies.”
Salvatore stepped closer.
“He watched his mother die six days ago.”
Sloan’s expression softened slightly.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.”
“I still need to interview him eventually.”
“With counsel. With a child specialist. And with me present.”
“That depends on whether you’re a suspect.”
“I’m always a suspect.”
She almost smiled.
“Probably true.”
Then she lowered her voice.
“We know Vittorio Moretti is alive.”
Salvatore stopped.
“How?”
“We’ve known for fourteen months.”
His anger flashed.
“You knew my father faked his death?”
“We suspected.”
“And did nothing?”
“We were building a case.”
“My son was kidnapped today.”
Sloan held his gaze.
“Which is why I’m telling you something I’m not authorized to tell you.”
She handed him a photograph.
Dominic.
Alive.
Bound to a chair.
Timestamped one hour earlier.
“Where did you get this?”
“Anonymous upload.”
“From who?”
“We think Vittorio.”
“Why?”
“He wants your brother publicly blamed for the trafficking network.”
Salvatore frowned.
“Dominic was involved.”
“Yes. But not alone.”
Sloan took back the photograph.
“Your father wants to disappear again. Dominic is the sacrifice.”
“And the archive?”
Her expression changed.
“You know about it.”
“Enough.”
“Then understand this. If Vittorio obtains access, he can destroy hundreds of people or control them indefinitely.”
“He needs Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
Salvatore’s face hardened.
“No.”
“That’s why we should place the boy in federal protection.”
Gabriel’s voice came from the staircase.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
He stood halfway down.
Rosa behind him.
Sloan crouched slightly.
“Gabriel?”
He gripped the banister.
“My mom said never go with government people either.”
Sloan blinked.
“She had an interesting trust policy.”
“She said some of Vittorio’s friends have badges.”
Sloan stood.
“That’s not wrong.”
Salvatore looked at her sharply.
“Your own people compromised?”
“We don’t know how high it goes.”
Then the power went out.
Every light.
Every camera.
Backup systems failed a second later.
Carmine’s radio exploded.
“Breach! East wall!”
Salvatore drew his weapon.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Rosa grabbed Gabriel.
Sloan drew hers.
“Safe room!”
“No,” Gabriel shouted.
Salvatore turned.
The boy looked terrified.
“Not the safe room.”
“Why?”
“Mom told me.”
“What?”
“She said your house has two safe rooms.”
Salvatore froze.
He knew only one.
Gabriel pointed toward the old chapel wing.
“The real one is under the chapel.”
Carmine stared.
“How would Elena know?”
Gabriel was already running.
They followed.
Behind the altar, beneath an old wooden cross, Gabriel found a hidden lever.
Stone shifted.
A staircase appeared.
Salvatore stared.
Another secret inside his own home.
They descended.
The door sealed just as bullets hit the chapel wall.
Inside was a bunker.
Old monitors.
Weapons.
Food.
A communication station.
And on the far wall, written in Elena’s handwriting thirteen years earlier:
Salvatore, if you ever find this room, trust no Moretti except the child standing beside you.
Gabriel looked up at his father.
Then one of the bunker monitors turned on by itself.
Vittorio appeared on screen.
Behind him, Dominic knelt bleeding.
Vittorio smiled.
“Good afternoon.”
May you like
Then he lifted a gun to Dominic’s head.
“Bring me Gabriel before sunset, or your brother dies on camera.”
