Chapter 4 - The Shadow from the PastThe medical team worked frantically for the next three hours.
By midnight, Isabella was resting peacefully, hooked up to an intravenous drip flushing the last remnants of Evelyn’s slow-acting poison from her bloodstream. The color was slowly returning to her cheeks, and her breathing had grown deep and steady.
I stood by the nursery window, rocking little Luca in my arms. He was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the monstrous storm that had nearly destroyed his family before he even learned to walk.
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket.
I pulled it out, stepping out onto the private balcony overlooking the sprawling estate gardens bathed in moonlight.
It was a restricted number.
I swiped to answer. “Speak.”
“Mr. Moretti,” a sharp, synthesized voice came through the receiver. “I trust your evening is going well. Though, considering your mother-in-law was just dragged out of your mansion in handcuffs, I imagine you’re a bit preoccupied.”
My eyes narrowed into slits. The grip on my phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. “Identify yourself.”
“Oh, cut the tough-guy act, Vincent,” the voice replied, followed by a low, mocking chuckle. “You spent the last five years crushing every rival in the city’s real estate and shipping sectors. You thought you left a clean trail behind you. But you forgot about the Garcia syndicate.”
The name hit me like a lightning bolt.
Years ago, before I consolidated my empire, I had dismantled a massive smuggling ring run by Victor Garcia—a ruthless cartel boss who had tried to muscle his way into my port territories. Garcia had ended up dead in a federal penitentiary, supposedly from a prison yard altercation.
Or so I had been told.
“Victor is dead,” I said coldly.
“My father is dead, yes,” the voice replied smoothly. “Killed by your dirty little backroom deals with the federal prosecutor. But blood doesn’t forget, Vincent. And neither do I. Did you really think Evelyn acted alone out of pure greed? She was deeply in debt, yes—over ten million dollars in black-market loans. Loans that my organization bought up months ago.”
A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. Evelyn wasn't just a greedy mother. She was a pawn.
“You controlled her from the very beginning,” I whispered.
“We gave her the poison. We gave her the instructions. We even provided the forged legal documents that were filed with the city court this very morning,” the voice sneered. “By sunrise, your corporate accounts will be frozen under federal investigation for medical fraud and elder abuse, utilizing your wife’s incapacitated state as leverage. Your empire, your mansion, your money—it will all be seized under RICO statutes.”
“You think you can take everything I’ve built with a few forged papers?” I challenged, my voice dropping an octave into a lethal register.
“I don’t think, Vincent. I know,” the voice whispered. “Enjoy your last night in that mansion. Tomorrow morning, federal agents will be knocking on your front door with arrest warrants for both you and your wife. Checkmate.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
I stood on the balcony, staring out into the dark horizon. The wind howled through the trees, carrying the bitter chill of an impending storm.
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They thought they had trapped me. They thought that by attacking my wife and framing my family, they had cornered the beast.
They didn't realize that backing a wolf into a corner only ensures that someone is about to get torn to pieces.
