Chapter 3 - THE CRACKS IN THE EMPIRE
By sunrise, the story of the million-dollar gala had swept every major news network and social media platform. Photographs of Dominic Moretti draping the rare blue-diamond necklace over Vanessa Reed's shoulders were plastered across front pages worldwide. To the public, it was the ultimate display of wealth and power—a romance between an untouchable billionaire and a high-society heiress.
To the inner circle of the Moretti organization, however, it was the start of a war.
In the sunlit glass office at the top of the Moretti Tower, Dominic sat behind his desk. He hadn't slept, changed his clothes, or shaved. Across from him stood Grace.
She didn't look like a mob boss's wife today. She wore a simple cream cardigan and jeans, her expression completely devoid of the usual quiet compliance she had maintained for ten years to protect their family.
"She's packing her things, Dominic," Grace said calmly, her voice devoid of heat.
Dominic looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Grace, listen to me. The Reed family controls the eastern shipping lanes. The federal signs were closing in on our shell corporations. I had to secure the alliance. The necklace was optics—"
"Don't talk to me about business," Grace interrupted, raising a single finger. "You sacrificed your child's dignity for a shipping lane. You stole her dream—a drawing you made for her—and put it around your mistress's neck on national television. Do you have any idea what that did to her?"
"I will buy her ten necklaces!" Dominic roared, slamming his palms onto the mahogany desk. "I will buy her the entire jewel district! She is nine years old, Grace! She will get over it!"
"She isn't angry, Dominic," Grace said softly. "That's what you don't understand. If she were angry, she would cry. She would throw a tantrum. She would demand an apology. But she didn't throw a tantrum. She cleaned her room. She packed her wooden box. And she asked me if we could change her last name."
Dominic froze as if struck by lightning. "She said what?"
"She doesn't want your money. She doesn't want your name. She realizes now that being a Moretti means being invisible until you need a photo opportunity." Grace placed a manila envelope on the desk. "These are separation papers. I'm taking Sophie to the estate in upstate New York. Don't follow us."
"You can't leave me," Dominic snapped, his instinctual need for control flaring up. "I own this city. I own the judges, the police, the land you walk on! You leave this house, and you have nothing!"
"We already have nothing," Grace replied quietly, turning toward the door. "You made sure of that last night."
As Grace walked out, Marco entered, looking pale. He held an encrypted tablet.
"Boss," Marco murmured, hesitating. "We have a problem."
"Not now, Marco," Dominic spat, rubbing his temples.
"It's not family business, sir. It's the business. Someone leaked the internal ledger of the Reed Shipping transaction to the Federal Bureau of Investigation this morning. The wiretaps are live. The grand jury is being convened as we speak."
Dominic's head snaps up. "Who leaked it? The servers are offline, completely air-gapped! The only access point was..."
He stopped. The blood drained from his face.
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The only physical access point to the encrypted server drive was located in his study at the estate—a room protected by a keycard and a seven-digit passcode that he had chosen years ago based on a date he thought no one would ever figure out.
Sophie's birthday: 0-9-0-4-2-0-1-7.
