Chapter 7 - VICTOR MORETTI WENT TO WAR FOR US
Victor’s plan terrified me.
That probably meant it was good.
He announced publicly that he would testify before a federal grand jury.
That alone made every criminal organization connected to the Morettis panic.
Then he leaked something else.
The Rossi archive would be transferred from federal custody to a secure courthouse facility on Friday morning.
It was a lie.
There was no transfer.
The files had already been duplicated across multiple federal systems.
Destroying one copy would accomplish nothing.
Salvatore did not know that.
Victor was baiting his brother.
“You’re inviting him to attack you.”
“Yes.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He will.”
“How can you know?”
“Because Salvatore has spent his life believing I always win because Father preferred me.”
Victor adjusted his tie.
“He won’t let me testify.”
“And if he shoots you?”
Victor looked almost amused.
“I prefer he doesn’t.”
I was not amused.
“You have a granddaughter now.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“So stop acting bulletproof.”
“I’ve never acted bulletproof.”
“You walked through gunfire three days ago.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You were there.”
I stared at him.
He realized that had not helped.
The convoy left at eight Friday morning.
Victor sat in the second SUV.
Marco drove.
Federal agents occupied the first and third vehicles.
I remained at a secure townhouse with Lily.
At least, that was the plan.
Then Rosa found the tracker.
A tiny device attached beneath Lily’s diaper bag.
Someone had placed it there after we left the estate.
My stomach turned cold.
Only six people had touched that bag.
One was Victor’s doctor.
I called Marco.
No answer.
Victor.
No answer.
Then the townhouse alarm died.
The lights went out.
Rosa looked at me.
“They found us.”
A window shattered downstairs.
I grabbed Lily.
Rosa opened a hidden cabinet and removed a pistol.
I stared.
“You know how to use that?”
“I worked for Morettis for thirty-two years.”
Fair point.
We ran upstairs.
Men entered below.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Controlled.
Not a chaotic attack.
A retrieval.
They wanted Lily alive.
That somehow made it worse.
My phone buzzed.
Victor.
I answered.
“They’re here.”
His voice changed instantly.
“Where?”
“Inside.”
“Hannah, listen to me.”
Gunfire exploded downstairs.
Rosa fired twice.
I screamed.
“Hannah!”
“I’m here.”
“Go to the roof.”
“What?”
“Service stairs. Roof. Now.”
I ran.
Lily cried against my chest.
Rosa followed.
A man appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Rosa fired.
He ducked.
We reached the roof.
Snow whipped across the buildings.
No exit.
“Victor!”
“I’m coming.”
“You’re twenty minutes away.”
“Eight.”
“How?”
He hung up.
I did not ask.
The roof door burst open.
Rosa fired until her weapon clicked empty.
Two men approached.
Then a third.
Salvatore.
He wore a black coat.
No scar could hide the resemblance to Victor.
“Hello, Hannah.”
I backed toward the edge.
“Stay away.”
“You have Elena’s eyes.”
“So I’ve heard.”
His gaze moved to Lily.
“And there she is.”
“Don’t touch her.”
“I don’t want to hurt the child.”
“You already attacked her twice.”
“I want what she represents gone.”
“What?”
“Victor’s future.”
The words chilled me.
This had never been entirely about the ledger.
It was about Victor.
Salvatore hated that Victor had found a daughter.
A granddaughter.
Something beyond power.
“You’re jealous.”
His face changed.
I saw it.
“You destroyed my mother because Victor loved her.”
“Careful.”
“You spent twenty-seven years hiding because you could never become him.”
Salvatore stepped closer.
I kept talking.
“You had your father’s money. Your family’s soldiers. Eighteen years to build something.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you’re still just Victor Moretti’s little brother.”
He struck me.
My head snapped sideways.
Lily screamed.
I tasted blood.
Then a gunshot cracked across the rooftop.
One of Salvatore’s men dropped.
Victor stood on the neighboring roof.
Marco beside him.
He had crossed from another building.
Of course he had.
“You hit my daughter.”
Victor’s voice was terrifying.
Salvatore grabbed me and pressed his gun against my ribs.
Victor stopped.
“There.”
Salvatore laughed.
“That face.”
Victor lowered his weapon slightly.
“Let them go.”
“And lose my leverage?”
“You wanted me.”
“I wanted everything you had.”
Victor stared at him.
“You could have built your own life.”
“You got everything.”
“I got nothing.”
Victor’s voice broke with anger.
“Father gave me an empire I never wanted. You killed the woman I loved. You stole my child before I knew she existed.”
Salvatore tightened his grip.
“She survived.”
“Because she was stronger than you.”
Salvatore raised the gun toward Lily.
Everything happened at once.
I twisted.
Victor fired.
Marco fired.
Salvatore’s weapon discharged into the air.
I dropped over Lily.
When I looked up, Salvatore was on his knees.
Blood spread across his coat.
Victor approached slowly.
Salvatore laughed weakly.
“Going to kill me?”
Victor stood over him.
For decades, this was probably how Moretti problems ended.
One brother.
One gun.
One body.
Victor looked at me.
Then Lily.
Then lowered his weapon.
“No.”
Salvatore’s smile faded.
“You don’t get my family’s blood on my hands again.”
Federal agents rushed onto the roof.
Salvatore Moretti was arrested alive.
That decision changed everything.
Not immediately.
The underworld called Victor weak.
Some laughed.
Then Salvatore began talking.
Not because he became honorable.
Because men like Salvatore feared prison more than death.
His testimony dismantled the Rinaldi organization.
Carlo pleaded guilty.
Six corrupt officials resigned.
Four police officers were arrested.
Two judges faced indictments.
Victor testified too.
He admitted everything he knew about his own family.
Including crimes that cost him money, properties, and influence.
Six months later, Moretti Group looked very different.
The clubs were sold.
Illegal gambling ended.
Construction companies underwent federal oversight.
Victor kept the restaurants, legitimate real estate, shipping warehouses, and several hotels.
He lost more than half his fortune.
He seemed relieved.
“You lost hundreds of millions,” I told him.
We were sitting in Lily’s nursery at the estate.
“I still have hundreds of millions.”
“That is an irritating answer.”
“I’m adjusting.”
Lily crawled toward him.
Victor immediately got onto the floor.
She pulled herself upright using his suit jacket.
“Da.”
Victor froze.
I froze.
Lily smiled.
“Da.”
Victor looked at me.
“Did she just—”
“Yes.”
“Was that me?”
“No, she was discussing international monetary policy.”
“Hannah.”
I started laughing.
Lily patted his cheek.
“Da.”
Victor’s eyes filled.
The most feared man in New York cried because a baby made one sound.
He picked her up.
“Again.”
Lily grabbed his nose.
“Da.”
Victor laughed.
And for the first time, I understood something my mother had learned long before me.
Victor Moretti had never been frightening because he lacked a heart.
He had been frightening because for most of his life, losing people had taught him to hide it.
Now Lily was teaching him how to use it again.
But our story was not finished.
Because one week later, a lawyer arrived at the estate carrying my mother’s final sealed letter.
And written across the front were five words.
FOR HANNAH’S WEDDING DAY ONLY.
There was one problem.
I wasn’t getting married.
May you like
And I had never told anyone that Lily’s father was still alive.
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