Chapter 5 - The Spider’s Web
The realization hung in the air like poison gas. If the Corsican syndicate had intended for the poison to be discovered after consumption, the ensuing chaos would have locked down the estate with federal agencies, rival families, and emergency responders—turning the Moretti stronghold into a fishbowl of vulnerability.
“They wanted the house in total disarray,” Dominic muttered, pacing the length of the master suite. “With the FBI crawling through my kitchen and my rivals circling like sharks, the inner defenses would drop. That’s when the real strike would happen.”
“And my daughter ruined the whole timeline,” I whispered, looking over at Lily, who had finally fallen back asleep on the plush velvet sofa.
“She shattered their timeline into a million pieces,” Dominic corrected, stopping right in front of me. He looked down, his expression unreadable. “Clara. How much do you actually know about your employment history before you came to Westchester?”
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in interrogation. “I... I was an estate manager in Boston for four years. Before that, corporate hospitality. Why?”
“Because background checks can be bought,” Dominic said quietly, pulling a manila folder from under his arm and tossing it onto the glass coffee table. “I had my private intelligence team run a deep-dive on you while you were packing your bags. Deeper than the standard corporate check.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Mr. Moretti, I have never lied on an application—.”
“Relax,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Your records are clean. Too clean. In fact, your maiden name isn't Vance, is it?”
I froze. The room suddenly felt ten degrees colder.
“Clara Vance is the name you took after your divorce,” Dominic continued, flipping open the folder to reveal a faded photograph of a much younger man standing beside a younger, smiling version of me outside a federal courthouse in Chicago. “Your father wasn't just a corporate accountant, Clara. He was Arthur Sterling—the chief forensic financial auditor for the United States Department of Justice who spent ten years building the RICO case against the Moretti and the Silverio syndicates before he mysteriously ‘disappeared’ in a car wreck.”
My breath caught in my throat. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “He didn't disappear. They murdered him. Both of your families did.”
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Dominic didn't flinch. He didn't raise his voice. He simply closed the folder and looked me dead in the eye.
“My family didn't touch your father, Clara. In fact, he was about to prove that the Silverios were embezzling from our joint shipping ports to fund a war against us. Someone inside the federal prosecutor’s office leaked his route.” Dominic leaned in closer. “You didn't stumble into my estate six years ago looking for a housekeeping job, did you? You came looking for the man who signed the warrant on your father’s murder.”
