Chapter 3 - THE DAUGHTER HE NEVER KNEW
Dominic had faced guns with steadier hands.
He had sat across tables from men who wanted him dead and negotiated as calmly as if they were discussing dinner reservations.
But nothing in thirty-nine years had prepared him for four words.
She is your daughter.
He stared at Lily.
His daughter slept curled beneath his coat, one small hand around the rabbit’s neck.
Six years of birthdays.
Six Christmas mornings.
First words.
First steps.
Fevers.
Nightmares.
School pictures.
He had missed all of it.
Not because he had walked away.
Because someone had decided he should never know.
Dominic turned toward Elena.
“Did you try to tell me?”
She gave him a look that answered before she spoke.
“Eleven times before she was born. Twenty-six afterward.”
Thirty-seven letters.
The exact number Dominic had sent her.
His chest tightened.
“I never received one.”
“And I never received yours.”
They stood in silence.
A war had been built between them using paper.
Dominic looked again at the letter Elena had kept.
“Who gave you this?”
“It arrived by courier.”
“Who?”
“No name.”
“When?”
“Three days after I told your father I was pregnant.”
Dominic slowly turned.
“My father knew?”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“That gets your attention?”
“My father told me you left because you wanted a normal life.”
“Your father offered me money.”
Dominic’s expression went still.
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
“Did you take it?”
Her eyes flashed.
“No.”
He regretted the question immediately.
Elena stepped toward him.
“I loved you.”
Her voice remained low because Lily was sleeping.
“I was twenty-eight years old, terrified, pregnant, and stupid enough to believe love mattered inside your family. Your father sat across from me in a private room at Carbone and explained exactly what would happen if I stayed.”
Dominic said nothing.
“He told me your enemies would use the baby against you. He told me you would eventually resent me. Then he offered money.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him to go to hell.”
Despite everything, Marco would later tell Dominic that was the moment he knew Elena had not changed.
Dominic’s father had terrified senators.
Elena Carter had told him to go to hell over pasta.
“What happened next?”
“The letter came three days later.”
She nodded toward the forged message.
“I believed it.”
“Why?”
“Because your father knew things only you knew.”
Dominic’s stomach twisted.
Of course he had.
Dominic had told Alessandro Moretti everything during those years.
That he loved Elena.
That he was considering leaving parts of the family business.
That Elena made him imagine children.
His own father had weaponized every confession.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I did.”
Dominic stared.
“Twice.”
“When?”
“The week after the letter. Security wouldn’t let me upstairs.”
His mind moved backward.
Seven years earlier.
A security change.
A new executive protocol.
Ordered by Adrian after threats from a rival family.
Dominic remembered.
“Who stopped you?”
“I don’t know. Security said your office had instructions that I was never to be admitted.”
Dominic’s jaw hardened.
Adrian.
Again.
Elena continued.
“The second time, I waited outside the garage. One of your father’s men approached me before your car arrived.”
“Who?”
“I never learned his name.”
“What did he say?”
“That if I cared about my unborn child, I would stop trying.”
Dominic’s face changed.
Elena saw it.
“I believed him.”
“You should have told me.”
“How?”
“Any way.”
“I tried every way.”
She pointed toward the forged letter.
“You think I wanted to raise Lily without you? You think I wanted to work two jobs while she had pneumonia at three and ask neighbors to watch her because childcare cost more than rent?”
Dominic flinched.
Elena saw it and immediately looked guilty.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
His voice was rough.
“You’re right.”
For once, Dominic Moretti did not defend himself.
He had been deceived.
But Elena had lived the consequences.
That mattered.
A knock came at the apartment door.
Marco entered.
His expression was bad.
“Need a word.”
“Say it here.”
Marco glanced at Elena.
“She deserves to hear.”
Marco handed Dominic a tablet.
“Bellmont’s HR director says Elena’s termination was entered at 11:43 p.m. Sunday.”
“I was in Boston Sunday.”
“Correct.”
“Who authorized it?”
“Administrative override.”
“Name.”
Marco hesitated.
“Adrian Moretti.”
Elena went pale.
Dominic’s eyes did not move from Marco.
“My uncle fired her.”
“Looks like it.”
“Why?”
“That part gets interesting.”
Marco swiped the screen.
“Elena accessed vendor accounts connected to three cold-storage facilities. One vendor appears repeatedly.”
He enlarged the name.
WESTERLY CONSULTING LLC.
Dominic recognized nothing.
Marco continued.
“Westerly has been paid almost twelve million dollars in eighteen months.”
“For what?”
“No legitimate services I can find.”
Elena spoke.
“Because there aren’t any.”
Both men turned.
She leaned against the counter.
“I started noticing duplicate freight invoices six weeks ago. Same routes. Same dates. Different vendor numbers.”
“You reported it?”
“To my supervisor.”
“What happened?”
“He told me it was above my pay grade.”
“And then?”
“I kept looking.”
Dominic almost smiled.
Of course she did.
“What did you find?”
“Payments went from Bellmont to Westerly, then through two property management firms.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. My access was cut.”
“And then you were fired.”
“Yes.”
Dominic handed the tablet back to Marco.
“Find where the money ends.”
“I have people on it.”
“No people Adrian knows.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
“Understood.”
Elena looked between them.
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
Dominic faced her.
“That your firing had nothing to do with policy.”
“No kidding.”
“And that the same man who may have helped separate us seven years ago just removed you from a company after you discovered missing money.”
Elena’s humor disappeared.
A noise came from the couch.
Lily sat up.
Her hair stuck sideways.
“Mommy?”
Elena immediately crossed the room.
“I’m here.”
Lily looked toward Dominic.
“Did you give her job back?”
Elena closed her eyes.
Dominic walked over.
He crouched.
“No.”
Lily frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to give her a better one.”
Elena shot him a warning look.
Lily considered that.
“Does it have health insurance?”
Dominic stared at her.
Elena covered her face.
Marco looked at the ceiling.
“Yes,” Dominic said.
“Dental?”
“Yes.”
“Mommy needs a tooth fixed.”
“Lily.”
“What? You said it hurts.”
Elena turned bright red.
Dominic felt something inside him break open.
Not pain.
Something warmer.
Dangerously warmer.
He looked at Lily.
“Yes. Dental too.”
She nodded, satisfied.
“Okay.”
Then she held out the rabbit.
“You can hold Mr. Pickles.”
Dominic accepted the stuffed animal as though someone had handed him a live grenade.
Lily leaned against Elena.
Within minutes she was asleep again.
Dominic looked down at the rabbit.
One repaired ear.
A blue thread across its stomach.
“How long has she had this?”
“Since she was born.”
“You bought it?”
Elena nodded.
“I was broke. It cost six dollars at a hospital gift shop.”
Dominic’s thumb brushed the damaged ear.
“I would have been there.”
“I know that now.”
The words stopped him.
He looked at her.
For the first time that night, some of Elena’s anger had faded.
Not forgiveness.
But possibility.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“I want a paternity test.”
Her defenses returned.
“Why?”
“Not because I doubt you.”
“Then why?”
“Because when this becomes public, Adrian will attack everything. You. Lily. Me. I want nobody to ever question her place.”
Elena studied him.
“You’re assuming she has a place in your world.”
“No.”
Dominic looked toward his sleeping daughter.
“I’m saying she has a place in mine.”
The following morning, Elena agreed.
A private doctor collected samples.
Dominic did not need the results.
He knew.
Still, thirty-six hours later, Marco entered Dominic’s office carrying a sealed envelope.
Dominic opened it alone.
Probability of paternity: 99.9998%.
He sat behind his desk for several minutes.
Then he laughed once.
A strange sound in the silent office.
His daughter.
He had a daughter.
The door opened.
Marco entered without knocking.
“You need to see this.”
Dominic wiped one hand across his face.
“What?”
Marco placed an old photograph on the desk.
It showed Dominic’s father outside Moretti Plaza seven years earlier.
Standing beside him was Adrian.
Between them sat a cardboard banker’s box.
Marco placed another image beside it.
Security archive footage.
The date was three weeks after Elena disappeared.
Someone had zoomed in on the writing printed across the box.
PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE — D. MORETTI
Dominic stared.
Marco spoke quietly.
“There’s more.”
“Where is the box?”
“We couldn’t find it.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Rosa remembers it.”
Rosa Moretti had been Dominic’s father’s housekeeper for thirty-four years.
She had raised Dominic almost as much as his mother had.
Marco leaned closer.
“She says your father ordered her never to touch it.”
Dominic stood.
“Where?”
“The old house.”
“Where in the old house?”
Marco’s expression tightened.
“In your father’s study.”
Three hours later, Dominic stood inside the room Alessandro Moretti had once ruled like a kingdom.
Behind the lowest shelf of an antique cabinet, Rosa found a false panel.
Inside sat a shoebox.
Dust covered the lid.
Dominic lifted it carefully.
Elena’s handwriting covered every envelope inside.
Every one was addressed to him.
Every one remained sealed.
Thirty-seven letters.
The first had been mailed seven years earlier.
Dominic picked it up.
His hand trembled.
And beneath the shoebox lay a courier receipt.
Someone had signed for the package when it was transferred from Moretti Plaza to the house.
One signature.
Clear.
Undeniable.
May you like
Adrian Moretti.
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