Chapter 9 - The Last MorettiEvelyn disappeared before sunrise.
Her bedroom remained untouched.
The window was closed.
No forced entry.
No blood.
Only a handwritten note rested upon the pillow.
I am sorry.
If I stay, he will kill all of you.
Vincent read it twice.
Then he handed it toward Dominic.
“She left voluntarily.”
“Looks that way.”
“Security footage?”
“Deleted.”
“By whom?”
“Evelyn.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
The estate security system had already been compromised too many times.
He intended to destroy it and rebuild everything before leaving Chicago.
Then he remembered.
They were not staying.
That thought felt more real now.
Leaving.
A home without underground armories.
A driveway without guards.
A nursery without bulletproof windows.
He wanted it with an intensity that surprised him.
Isabelle entered carrying coffee.
Mateo was asleep with a nurse.
She handed Vincent a cup.
“Drink.”
“I do not need—”
“Drink.”
He obeyed.
Dominic smiled.
Vincent looked toward him.
“You may leave.”
“Gladly.”
After Dominic left, Isabelle examined Vincent’s bandaged side.
“Pain?”
“No.”
“You lie badly.”
“I lie professionally.”
“Not to me.”
The words became quiet.
Vincent looked toward her.
Something had changed after the hospital.
Neither of them had discussed the kisses.
Not properly.
There had been doctors.
Federal interviews.
Mateo.
Evelyn’s disappearance.
But the awareness remained.
“Isabelle.”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“No what?”
“You are about to say this is complicated.”
“It is.”
“You are about to tell me Isabella died and you do not know whether you are allowed to love somebody again.”
Vincent stared.
“That was remarkably accurate.”
“I have had several hours to prepare.”
He almost smiled.
Isabelle placed her coffee down.
“I am not asking you to forget her.”
“I know.”
“I do not want to replace her.”
“I know.”
“But I also will not pretend nothing happened.”
Vincent looked toward her.
“Neither will I.”
“Good.”
She waited.
He seemed uncomfortable.
“Is that all?”
“What else do you want?”
“A feeling.”
“I have many.”
“A sentence containing one.”
Vincent Moretti, who had negotiated million-dollar contracts while men held weapons toward his head, suddenly seemed incapable of speaking.
Isabelle waited.
Finally he said, “When you are not inside a room, I look for you.”
Her expression softened.
Vincent continued reluctantly.
“When something happens, you are the person I think about telling.”
He looked toward the nursery hallway.
“When I imagine leaving Chicago with Mateo…”
A pause.
“You are there.”
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
“That sounds suspiciously like a feeling.”
“I dislike this conversation.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer.
Vincent touched her cheek.
This kiss was different from the hospital.
No fear.
No gunfire.
No blood.
Only choice.
When they separated, Isabelle smiled.
“You are still terrible at this.”
“I have been occupied.”
“Crime?”
“Mostly.”
Dominic returned abruptly.
“Sorry.”
He was not sorry.
“Geneva.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“What?”
“We broke the encryption upon Isabella’s investigator files.”
A foundation called Helix International appeared repeatedly.
Registered in Switzerland.
Publicly, it funded fertility research and rare-disease genetics.
Privately, money moved from Helix toward Genesis Hope for nearly 8 years.
Evelyn had worked for Helix before joining her father.
“Who controls it?” Isabelle asked.
Dominic placed a photograph upon the desk.
Vincent recognized the man.
“So do I,” Isabelle whispered.
Senator Charles Whitmore.
Former Illinois governor.
Current chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee.
One of the most influential political figures in the country.
He had attended Isabella and Vincent’s wedding.
He had accepted Moretti campaign money through intermediaries.
He had shaken Vincent’s hand dozens of times.
Dominic opened another photograph.
Whitmore standing beside Adrian Vale in Geneva.
“Project Orpheus,” Dominic said, “was funded by him.”
Vincent understood immediately why Vale believed himself untouchable.
Federal protection.
Political influence.
Intelligence connections.
A network capable of erasing identities and moving children across borders.
“Why?”
“Succession.”
Dominic brought up Whitmore’s family history.
The senator’s only son died at age 19.
His daughter could not have children.
The Whitmore political dynasty would biologically end.
Helix began its most aggressive research 1 year afterward.
“Vale did not invent the obsession,” Isabelle said.
“No,” Vincent replied.
“Whitmore did.”
They found Evelyn 6 hours later.
Not through security cameras.
Through a message she deliberately left inside the ledger.
She had traveled toward a private airfield.
A Helix aircraft waited.
Vincent realized she intended to infiltrate the organization.
“She is going to Geneva.”
Dominic nodded.
“She thinks she can reach their servers.”
“She will die.”
“Probably.”
Isabelle looked toward Vincent.
“You are thinking about following.”
“Yes.”
“No hesitation?”
“None.”
“And our plan to leave Chicago?”
“This is part of it.”
Isabelle understood.
As long as Helix existed, Mateo would never be safe.
Neither would the remaining Orpheus children.
This was not revenge.
This was the final chain connecting them toward the old world.
Break it, and they might actually disappear.
Isabelle looked toward him.
“When do we leave?”
“We?”
She smiled without humor.
“Do not begin.”
“You are staying with Mateo.”
“No.”
“Isabelle—”
“I am staying with Mateo.”
Vincent paused.
“That was unexpectedly reasonable.”
“But you are coming home.”
His expression changed.
“That is an order.”
“From whom?”
“The mother of your child.”
Vincent considered.
“Apparently I respond well to that authority.”
Before leaving for Europe, Vincent did something nobody expected.
He met with Salvatore Falcone.
For 20 years, Moretti and Falcone blood had stained Chicago streets.
Both families lost brothers.
Cousins.
Friends.
Retaliation created retaliation until nobody remembered the original insult clearly.
They met inside an empty church.
No weapons.
No soldiers inside.
Only Dominic and Anthony remained outside.
Salvatore was 67.
Gray-haired.
Heavy.
His face showed decades of hatred.
“You killed my nephew.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“You killed many of my men.”
“They tried first.”
Salvatore smiled bitterly.
“This is why nothing ends.”
Vincent placed a folder upon the pew.
Inside were documents transferring 3 legitimate shipping contracts toward Falcone companies.
Salvatore looked down.
“What is this?”
“Peace.”
“You expect me to buy peace?”
“No.”
“I am paying the debt necessary to begin it.”
Salvatore looked toward him suspiciously.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“That is impossible.”
“I am leaving Chicago.”
The older man laughed.
Then he realized Vincent was serious.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“You are abandoning everything?”
“I am choosing something else.”
Salvatore studied him for a long time.
“The baby.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Salvatore raised both hands.
“Anthony told me.”
A pause.
“He said holding his granddaughter changed something.”
Vincent understood.
“It does.”
Salvatore looked toward the altar.
“My oldest son died because of this war.”
Vincent remembered.
He had ordered the operation.
Guilt moved through him.
“I know.”
“I wanted your family to suffer after that.”
“They did.”
“Yes.”
Salvatore looked older suddenly.
“And mine continued suffering too.”
Vincent remained silent.
Finally Salvatore extended one hand.
Not friendship.
Not forgiveness.
An ending.
Vincent shook it.
Twenty years of war ended without a gunshot.
Three days later, Vincent flew to Geneva with Dominic and a small team.
No private Moretti jet.
Commercial records would attract attention.
They traveled under legitimate identities through Milan.
Evelyn had already entered Switzerland.
Helix International occupied a beautiful modern campus overlooking Lake Geneva.
Glass walls.
Gardens.
Research laboratories.
Nothing about it resembled Genesis Hope.
That was what made it more disturbing.
Dominic located Evelyn through an encrypted emergency beacon.
She had intentionally activated it for 9 seconds.
They found her inside an apartment outside Lausanne.
When Vincent entered, she nearly shot him.
“Are you insane?”
“You disappeared from my house.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You are terrible at it.”
Evelyn lowered the weapon.
“They know Mateo survived.”
“We know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“They know everything.”
Helix possessed genetic files on hundreds of children.
Not 11.
Hundreds.
Orpheus had expanded internationally.
The American operation represented only a small branch.
Vincent stared toward the documents.
“You cannot rescue hundreds of people quietly.”
“No.”
Evelyn looked toward him.
“That is why I came.”
“Why?”
“To destroy the secret.”
Not the children.
Not the records needed for medical purposes.
The leverage.
Every file connecting hidden genetic identities toward powerful families would be released toward international authorities simultaneously.
Once the information became too widespread to suppress, Helix could no longer control it.
“What do you need?” Dominic asked.
“Access to the central server.”
“Where?”
“Helix headquarters.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“You intend to walk inside?”
“I have credentials.”
“They know you betrayed Vale.”
“They do not know I am here.”
A voice came from behind them.
“Yes, we do.”
Everyone turned.
Senator Charles Whitmore stood inside the apartment doorway.
Four armed men surrounded him.
Dominic reached toward his weapon.
A laser sight appeared upon his chest.
Whitmore smiled.
“Vincent.”
“Senator.”
“It has been years.”
“Not enough.”
Whitmore entered.
“You should have remained in Chicago.”
“You should have remained out of my family.”
The senator sighed.
“Your family.”
He looked toward Vincent almost sadly.
“You still do not understand.”
Whitmore placed a tablet upon the table.
A genetic chart appeared.
Mateo Moretti.
Below it, another profile.
Vincent Joseph Moretti.
Then another.
Unknown subject.
The compatibility percentage was extraordinary.
Whitmore smiled.
“Your son was not selected only because Lorenzo wanted leverage.”
Vincent stared.
“Why?”
“Because the Moretti genome contains a rare hereditary marker.”
“A marker for what?”
“Neurological resistance.”
Evelyn looked horrified.
Whitmore continued.
“Your bloodline became essential toward a research program worth more than every criminal business you ever controlled.”
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“You experimented upon children.”
“We studied possibility.”
“Call it what it is.”
Whitmore ignored him.
“Mateo is unique.”
Vincent stepped forward.
Weapons lifted.
“Do not.”
Whitmore smiled.
“He is too valuable to kill.”
“That is your mistake.”
“What?”
“You think value protects him.”
Vincent’s eyes became cold.
“It only tells me exactly what I need to destroy.”
A sudden explosion shattered the apartment windows.
Whitmore’s men turned.
Dominic attacked.
Chaos followed.
Vincent pulled Evelyn behind the kitchen wall.
Gunfire struck furniture.
The explosion had not come from Moretti personnel.
Swiss tactical police entered from the opposite side.
Whitmore looked genuinely shocked.
Evelyn smiled.
“I told Interpol everything before you arrived.”
Whitmore’s face changed.
For the first time, the powerful senator understood that his influence might not save him.
He fled toward the balcony.
Vincent followed.
Whitmore climbed over the railing toward an adjacent terrace.
Vincent caught him.
The senator hung above the street.
Vincent gripped his wrist.
Whitmore looked downward.
Then toward Vincent.
“Help me.”
Vincent could release him.
One movement.
Gravity would finish everything.
The old Vincent would have done it without hesitation.
Isabella’s voice seemed to return.
Do not make my death the excuse you use to stop living.
Then Isabelle.
Mateo needs his father.
Vincent pulled Whitmore upward.
Police seized him.
The senator stared in disbelief.
“Why?”
Vincent looked toward him.
“Because my son will never hear that I became you in order to defeat you.”
Whitmore was taken away.
By sunrise, Helix servers had been seized across 4 countries.
Project Orpheus became international news.
Arrests began.
And for the first time since Mateo’s birth, Vincent received a message from Dominic containing only 2 words.
It’s over.
Vincent stood beside Lake Geneva.
Morning light moved across the water.
He called Isabelle.
She answered immediately.
“Vincent?”
“It is finished.”
A long silence.
Then he heard her cry.
Not from fear.
Relief.
“Come home.”
He closed his eyes.
Home.
For decades, the word meant Chicago.
The estate.
Power.
May you like
Now it meant something completely different.
“I am coming.”
