Chapter 4 - The Dead Man’s SecretThree days later, Vincent Moretti buried Lorenzo Rossi without a funeral.
There were no flowers.
No priest.
No grieving relatives gathered beneath black umbrellas.
Lorenzo’s body was placed inside an unmarked grave upon property once used by the Moretti organization to hide men whose names were not supposed to appear inside police reports.
Vincent did not attend.
He had already given Lorenzo enough of his life.
Instead, he sat inside his office at 4:30 a.m. and watched the destruction of his empire occur across 7 computer screens.
Illegal accounts were being emptied.
Not into Vincent’s personal fortune.
Into severance payments.
Pensions.
Anonymous restitution funds.
Several million dollars were quietly transferred toward families harmed by Moretti operations during the previous decade.
Dominic had objected.
Not because he opposed the idea.
Because some transfers might attract federal attention.
Vincent accepted the risk.
He had spent years collecting money through fear.
If the empire was truly ending, the final movement of that money would not enrich him.
A knock came against the office door.
Isabelle entered without waiting for permission.
Vincent looked up.
“You should not be walking this far.”
“I had a baby 3 days ago. I did not lose my legs.”
She wore a loose gray sweater over comfortable pants. Her movements remained careful, but stubborn determination compensated for physical weakness.
Vincent stood immediately.
“You were told to remain inside the medical wing.”
“By you.”
“And 4 doctors.”
“Mostly by you.”
Vincent walked around the desk.
“Mateo?”
“Asleep. Two nurses are watching him, Dominic placed an armed guard beside the bassinet, and I am fairly certain somebody installed a camera inside the stuffed bear.”
Vincent remained silent.
Isabelle narrowed her eyes.
“You installed a camera inside the stuffed bear.”
“It has infrared.”
She stared toward him.
“Of course it does.”
Despite himself, Vincent almost smiled.
Then Isabelle noticed the monitors.
“What are you doing?”
“Closing businesses.”
“All of them?”
“The illegal ones.”
She moved closer.
The digital map displayed dozens of points across Chicago.
Warehouses.
Clubs.
Storage facilities.
Routes.
Each represented a piece of Moretti power.
One after another, the indicators turned black.
“You really meant it.”
Vincent looked toward her.
“I do not make promises casually.”
Her expression softened.
Then she saw the photograph from the anonymous envelope lying upon his desk.
The image of Vincent beside Mateo’s bassinet.
Fear returned.
“Anything?”
“Nothing.”
“How did someone get close enough to take it?”
“That is what concerns me.”
The estate’s woodland perimeter extended more than 400 yards beyond the medical wing.
To capture an image of that clarity, someone needed specialized equipment.
More importantly, they needed knowledge of the exact room where Mateo had been placed.
That information should have been known only to Moretti personnel.
Which meant the betrayal might not have ended with Lorenzo.
Vincent closed the laptop.
“You should return upstairs.”
“No.”
“Isabelle.”
“You have spent 3 days telling everybody to protect me while refusing to tell me what is happening.”
“Because you need recovery.”
“I need information.”
He studied her.
There was no fear inside her expression now.
Only frustration.
Vincent had dealt with senators who yielded faster.
“Sit.”
She did.
Vincent remained standing.
“Dominic traced the phone call you received during your 5th month.”
Isabelle became attentive.
“The number was routed through 11 servers. Eventually it led toward a satellite connection registered to a corporation in Luxembourg.”
“Vale?”
“We believe so.”
“Where is he?”
“We do not know.”
“But?”
Vincent hesitated.
“We found his daughter.”
Isabelle blinked.
“He has a daughter?”
“Evelyn Vale. Thirty-two years old. Genetic researcher.”
“Was she involved with Genesis Hope?”
“That is what we are determining.”
Dominic entered at that moment.
A thick folder remained beneath his uninjured arm.
He saw Isabelle.
“Boss, your prisoner escaped.”
“I noticed.”
“I am not his prisoner.”
Dominic glanced between them.
“I have learned not to participate in this conversation.”
He placed the file upon Vincent’s desk.
“Evelyn Vale disappeared from Chicago 3 years ago, 2 days before the clinic fire.”
“Where did she go?”
“Portland. Then Denver. Then Atlanta.”
“She moved frequently.”
“Every 6 or 7 months.”
Vincent understood immediately.
“She was hiding.”
Dominic nodded.
“Last confirmed address was Savannah, Georgia.”
Isabelle leaned forward.
“Confirmed when?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Is she still there?”
“We have a team checking.”
Vincent opened the folder.
Inside were photographs of a dark-haired woman wearing glasses, leaving a laboratory building.
Evelyn resembled her father around the eyes.
“Anything connecting her toward Lorenzo?”
“No.”
“Genesis Hope?”
“Yes.”
Dominic placed another document down.
“She worked there under a different name.”
Vincent read it.
Dr. Evelyn Hart.
Senior embryologist.
Isabelle’s blood chilled.
“I know that name.”
Vincent looked toward her.
“What?”
“She was in the room during my implantation.”
Dominic’s attention sharpened.
“You are certain?”
“Yes.”
Isabelle touched her temple.
“I never saw her full face because she wore a surgical mask, but the nurse called her Dr. Hart.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“She apologized.”
Vincent frowned.
“For what?”
“I thought she meant because the procedure was uncomfortable.”
Isabelle closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“She squeezed my hand before the sedation. She said, ‘I am sorry you were chosen.’”
Silence followed.
Vincent and Dominic exchanged a look.
At the time, Isabelle had believed the woman possessed terrible bedside manners.
Now the words carried a different meaning.
“You were chosen,” Vincent repeated.
“Not volunteered.”
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He answered.
Listened.
His posture changed.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“We are coming.”
He ended the call.
“We found Evelyn.”
Vincent reached for his jacket.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Dominic looked toward Isabelle.
“She walked into a federal field office in Savannah 27 minutes ago.”
The room became silent.
“She surrendered?” Isabelle asked.
“Apparently.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Why now?”
“Because she saw the news.”
“What news?”
Dominic turned on the television.
Every major Chicago station was reporting the same story.
MORETTI BUSINESSES CLOSE WITHOUT WARNING.
SPECULATION SURROUNDS ORGANIZED CRIME SHAKEUP.
One photograph showed ambulances leaving the estate after the attack.
Another showed Vincent from years earlier.
Then the screen displayed an aerial image captured by a news helicopter.
The Moretti estate.
Isabelle’s stomach tightened.
“Mateo?”
“No public report mentions him,” Dominic said.
“But Evelyn knew what closing the businesses meant.”
Vincent understood.
She knew Lorenzo was dead or defeated.
Perhaps she had spent 3 years waiting for the balance of power to change.
“What did she tell federal agents?”
Dominic’s expression became grim.
“She refused to speak unless Vincent Moretti was present.”
Isabelle looked toward Vincent.
“That sounds convenient.”
“Too convenient.”
Dominic nodded.
“The FBI wants Vincent inside a federal building.”
“Then the answer is no.”
Isabelle stood slowly.
“Wait.”
Vincent turned.
“If she knows what happened to Mateo, you need to hear her.”
“I will.”
“How?”
“We bring her here.”
Dominic shook his head.
“The federal government is unlikely to deliver a protected witness toward a mafia estate.”
“Then we remove the word unlikely.”
Isabelle stared at him.
“This is what you mean when you say you are leaving crime?”
Vincent buttoned his jacket.
“I said I was closing the organization. I did not say I had forgotten how negotiation works.”
Several hours later, the negotiation occurred inside a conference room at a private legal office in downtown Chicago.
For the first time since the Starlight Diner attack, Isabelle left the estate.
Vincent had opposed it.
She had won by refusing to remain behind.
Her victory came with consequences.
Three armored vehicles.
Eight security officers.
Dominic.
A physician.
And Vincent sitting so close beside her inside the Escalade that their shoulders remained pressed together.
“You understand this is ridiculous,” Isabelle said.
“No.”
“You brought a doctor.”
“You gave birth 3 days ago.”
“You already mentioned that.”
“You seem determined to forget.”
She looked through the darkened window.
Chicago passed outside.
She had spent years riding buses through these streets.
Working shifts.
Counting dollars.
Worrying about rent.
Now intersections were being cleared before their vehicle reached them.
The contrast felt unreal.
At the law office, 4 federal agents waited.
So did Evelyn Vale.
She looked exhausted.
Her dark hair had been cut unevenly near her shoulders, and fear had carved deep shadows beneath her eyes.
When Vincent entered, Evelyn stood.
Then she saw Isabelle.
Her face collapsed.
“Oh, God.”
Isabelle froze.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
“The baby?”
“Alive,” Vincent said.
Evelyn began crying.
Vincent did not move.
“Sit.”
Everyone obeyed except him.
The lead FBI agent started to speak.
“This interview—”
Vincent looked at him.
“This is not your interview.”
“It is taking place under federal supervision.”
“Then supervise quietly.”
The agent’s jaw tightened but he remained silent.
Evelyn stared at Isabelle.
“I tried to stop them.”
“You implanted me,” Isabelle said.
“Yes.”
“With his child.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
Isabelle’s hands trembled.
Vincent noticed and moved closer.
“Why?” Isabelle asked.
Evelyn inhaled shakily.
“Because my father gave me no choice.”
Adrian Vale had transformed Genesis Hope into a private marketplace.
Not for ordinary surrogacy.
For genetic leverage.
Embryos belonging to powerful families were secretly duplicated, transferred, or sold.
Most clients never discovered the theft.
Some embryos went toward illegal research.
Others were implanted.
Children could become tools.
Inheritance disputes.
Ransom.
Political blackmail.
The ultimate insurance policy against wealthy parents.
Vincent felt something murderous awakening inside him.
“How many?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I do not know.”
“How many children?”
“At least 11 pregnancies.”
Isabelle closed her eyes.
Vincent’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“And my son?”
“Lorenzo selected your embryo personally.”
Evelyn explained.
Lorenzo intended for Vincent to believe the Moretti bloodline had ended.
Years later, when Vincent’s empire became vulnerable, Lorenzo planned to reveal the existence of the child.
The boy could be used to force Vincent into surrendering territory.
If Vincent refused, Mateo would be given toward his enemies.
“But something changed,” Evelyn said.
“What?”
“My father changed the plan.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Vale wanted the child?”
“He wanted every child.”
“For what?”
“I never discovered the complete reason.”
“Not good enough.”
“Vincent,” Isabelle warned.
He ignored her.
Evelyn reached into her bag.
The federal agents tensed.
She slowly removed a small flash drive.
“My father kept a ledger.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“A digital ledger?”
“Names. Embryo numbers. Surrogates. Buyers. Payments.”
“Where?”
“I copied part of it before the fire.”
She placed the drive upon the table.
Vincent did not touch it.
“Why did you run?”
“Because I discovered he planned to kill every surrogate after delivery.”
Isabelle’s face emptied of color.
Evelyn looked directly at her.
“You were never supposed to survive Mateo’s birth.”
The words struck the room.
Vincent’s hand closed into a fist.
“The diner attack?”
“That was Lorenzo improvising after he believed you had been discovered.”
“What was the original plan?”
Evelyn began crying again.
“You were supposed to die from a medical complication.”
Isabelle touched her abdomen instinctively.
“The clinic gave me injections.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Vitamins?”
“No.”
Vincent stepped toward her.
“What did they give her?”
“A compound designed to cause a fatal postpartum hemorrhage after delivery.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Vincent heard nothing except his own pulse.
Isabelle looked as though she might collapse.
He placed an arm around her.
“They stopped giving me injections after the clinic burned.”
“That is why you survived.”
Evelyn wiped her face.
“I altered the medication before I disappeared. I replaced the last supply with saline.”
Isabelle stared.
“You saved me.”
“I tried.”
Vincent looked at Evelyn differently.
Not with forgiveness.
But with reconsideration.
“Where is your father?”
She looked toward the flash drive.
“He has a laboratory somewhere outside the United States.”
“Where?”
“I do not know.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Evelyn continued quickly.
“But the ledger contains a code he used for shipments.”
Dominic inserted the flash drive into an isolated laptop.
Files appeared.
Most were encrypted.
One folder was not.
PROJECT ORPHEUS.
Inside were 11 case numbers.
The first 10 were marked with unfamiliar codes.
The 11th read:
VM-0001A.
Mateo.
Beside it were 3 words.
RECOVERY STATUS: PENDING.
Isabelle’s hand moved toward Vincent’s.
He held it immediately.
Dominic clicked another document.
A list of dates appeared.
The final date was only 12 days away.
“Recovery operation,” Dominic read.
“What does that mean?” Isabelle whispered.
Evelyn looked terrified.
“My father is coming for the children.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked toward the 11 case numbers.
For the first time, this was no longer only about Mateo.
Ten other children existed somewhere.
Ten other families might not even understand the danger approaching them.
Vincent had promised to destroy his empire.
He still would.
But the machinery of violence he built had one final purpose.
Not conquest.
Not money.
Not revenge.
Protection.
Vincent closed the laptop.
“Dominic.”
“Yes?”
“Find every child upon that list.”
The FBI agent stood.
“This is now a federal investigation.”
Vincent looked toward him.
“No.”
His hand remained wrapped around Isabelle’s.
May you like
“This is a rescue operation.”
And somewhere beyond Chicago, Adrian Vale had already begun moving toward them.
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