Chapter 6 - The Trap
I stood in the center of the cabin’s living room, staring at the ringing phone on the kitchen island. The caller ID flashed green against the marble surface: RESTRICTED NUMBER.
Evelyn was hyperventilating beside me, her hands pressed tightly against her chest. “Adrian, what do we do? The amber alert... they’re going to hunt us down like criminals! They think you kidnapped our kids!”
“Evelyn, calm down,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as iron, though my mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour. “Panicking plays right into Vance’s hands. That’s what he wants. He wants us terrified, isolated, and making mistakes.”
I stepped over to the island and picked up the phone. I hit accept and placed it on speaker.
“Moretti,” I said calmly.
“Adrian.”
It wasn't a federal agent. It was the smooth, dangerous, purring voice of my mother, Victoria Moretti.
Evelyn gasped, stepping back.
“Hello, Mother,” I said coldly.
“You’ve caused quite a mess in Boston, my son,” Victoria said, her tone completely devoid of warmth. “Federal amber alerts? Kidnapping charges? Julian Vance is holding a press conference on the steps of the Boston Federal Courthouse in thirty minutes. He’s painting you as a ruthless cartel leader who stole his family.”
“Julian Vance is a lying opportunistic parasite,” I growled. “Those are my children, Mother. Mine and Evelyn’s.”
A brief silence hung on the line before Victoria let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Of course they are, Adrian. I saw the photograph Marcus was keeping from me. The little girl has the exact Moretti chin. Did you really think you could hide two heirs to the Moretti family from me?”
“They are not 'heirs' to a syndicate, Victoria!” Evelyn yelled into the phone, her maternal instinct overpowering her terror. “They are babies! Leave us alone!”
“Ah, Evelyn,” Victoria replied, her voice sharpening into steel. “Still as emotional and shortsighted as the day you ran away. You brought my bloodline into the home of a weakling like Julian Vance. You risked their safety for three years. You have no right to speak to me about their future.”
“Mother, listen to me very carefully,” I cut in, my voice dropping into a register that signaled absolute danger. “If you interfere in this, if you touch one hair on Evelyn’s head or try to take my kids, I will tear down everything you’ve built in Chicago. I will walk into the US Attorney’s office myself and hand them the keys to the entire family estate.”
Marcus looked at me in shock. He knew I meant every word. I was willing to burn my own empire to ashes to protect my children.
On the phone, Victoria went dead quiet. She knew me better than anyone. She knew I didn't make empty threats.
“You’re blind, Adrian,” Victoria said softly, almost pityingly. “You think Julian Vance did this alone? You think a weakling surgeon has the leverage to pull an amber alert through federal channels in less than two hours?”
My eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you fell right into a trap,” Victoria revealed. “Arthur Vance—Julian’s father—isn't just an investment banker. He’s the primary financial backer for Senator Richard Hayes, who happens to sit on the Senate Judiciary Committee. The Vances didn't issue that alert to find the kids. They issued it to force you into a public federal confrontation. They want you arrested on kidnapping charges so you’re locked in a federal holding cell, unable to contest Julian’s custody claim.”
The pieces immediately snapped into place. It was a masterclass in legal ambush. By framing me as an armed abductor, Julian wouldn't just win custody of the twins—he would permanently eliminate me as a threat, secure his multi-billion-dollar trust, and look like a heroic father in the eyes of the public.
“Where are you, Victoria?” I demanded.
“I am sitting in the lobby of the Four Seasons in Boston,” she replied calmly. “With the best federal defense attorneys in the United States. You have two choices, Adrian. You can stay hidden in the woods like a scared dog until the FBI tracks your cell signal and breaches that cabin with a SWAT team... or you can let me handle this.”
“What’s your price?” I asked, knowing my mother never gave anything away for free.
“Simple,” Victoria stated crisply. “You bring Evelyn and the children to Boston tonight. We file an immediate emergency countersuit proving paternity. I use my political leverage to quash the federal warrant before dawn. But in exchange... the children come back to Chicago with me. They will be raised as Morettis, under my supervision, with the full protection of our security apparatus.”
Evelyn shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face, mouthing “No! No!”
“No,” I told my mother instantly. “That deal is dead on arrival.”
“Then enjoy your federal prison sentence, Adrian,” Victoria said coldly. “Because in thirty minutes, the FBI will pinpoint the cell tower pinging your phone in New Hampshire. Goodbye, my son.”
She hung up.
The line went dead with a loud beep.
Marcus immediately stepped forward, grabbing his laptop. “Boss! She’s right! Your mother’s tech team likely intercepted this call and relayed the ping coordinates to federal authorities to force your hand! We have less than twenty minutes before federal units converge on this mountain!”
Panic exploded in the cabin. Evelyn ran toward the hallway where the children were sleeping, but I caught her by the waist, pulling her into my chest.
“Evelyn, look at me!” I commanded, holding her face between my hands. Her eyes were wild with fear, her body shaking violently. “Look at me!”
She focused on my eyes.
“I am not letting her take our kids,” I promised, my voice raspy with raw conviction. “And I am not going to prison. Trust me. Just this once, Evelyn... trust me.”
She searched my eyes, looking for any sign of deception, any trace of the cold mob boss she had fled. She saw only a desperate father willing to die for his family.
“What’s the plan, Adrian?” she whispered, choking back a sob.
I turned to Marcus, my mind clicking into tactical precision. “Marcus, activate Protocol Zero.”
Marcus blinked in disbelief. “Protocol Zero? Boss... that’s for full syndicate war. If we execute that in Boston—”
“Execute it,” I ordered ruthlessly. “Call our contacts in the Boston police department. Call our private air transport in Vermont. I want every asset we have in the Northeast deployed to the Vance estate in Beacon Hill in two hours.”
“The Vance estate?” Marcus asked, bewildered. “Why are we going there?”
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I pulled my heavy tactical coat back on, checking the magazine of the suppressed firearm hidden inside my shoulder holster.
“Because,” I said, a dark, lethal smile touching my lips, “Julian Vance thinks he’s playing a game of chess in a courtroom. It’s time to remind him that he’s dealing with a Moretti.”
