Chapter 8 - THE COURTROOM
Adrian’s trial lasted four months.
Health care fraud.
Attempted murder.
Conspiracy.
Financial crimes.
Witness intimidation.
The deaths of Isabella Moretti, Mateo Moretti and Alan Reese.
The prosecutors built the case carefully.
Medical records.
Renner’s cooperation.
Kessler’s archived files.
Alan’s recording.
Erin’s letter.
Adrian’s own statements from the restaurant.
The wire had been destroyed.
The transmission had not.
Every word existed.
Including:
Mateo was an heir.
That sentence destroyed whatever remained of Adrian in the eyes of the jury.
I testified for two days.
His attorney attacked me.
Crime.
Violence.
The Moretti name.
My own history.
Much of it was fair.
“Mr. Moretti, are you asking this jury to believe you suddenly became law-abiding?”
“No.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“To believe evidence.”
He smiled.
“Convenient answer.”
“It’s also the correct one.”
He asked why I did not kill Adrian myself.
The courtroom went silent.
I looked toward Lily.
She was not there.
I had refused to let her attend.
Nine-year-olds belonged in school.
Not watching adults explain why children had been murdered for inheritance.
“Because I’ve buried enough family.”
The attorney tried again.
“Or because cooperating with prosecutors protects you?”
“Nothing protects me from everything I’ve done.”
He paused.
That answer was not in his script.
I continued.
“But this case is about what Adrian did.”
The jury understood.
Adrian was convicted on every major count.
The judge imposed multiple life-equivalent sentences.
When they led him away, he looked at me.
No apology.
No regret.
Only resentment.
“You threw away the family.”
I stood.
“No.”
I thought of Isabella.
Mateo.
Lily.
“I finally figured out what family is.”
Then he was gone.
The legal fight for Lily came next.
That one scared me more.
Adoption was not automatic.
I was a single man.
A public figure.
A man with a criminal reputation.
Lily’s surviving relatives had to be located.
None wanted custody.
Some wanted money.
One cousin offered to “consider guardianship” after learning my net worth.
Mara removed him from consideration with professional joy.
Child services examined the estate.
My finances.
My security.
My history.
My treatment.
My temper.
Everything.
I hated it.
Lily thought it was funny.
“Now adults ask you questions.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
One evaluator asked Lily privately why she wanted to stay with me.
I did not hear her answer until the court hearing.
The judge read it aloud.
“He was dying when he found me.”
My chest tightened.
“But he still gave me a safe house.”
The judge continued.
“Then I told him not to die.”
A few people laughed softly.
“He listened.”
I looked down.
“He doesn’t always listen. But more than before.”
More laughter.
“He tells me when things are bad.”
The judge paused.
“He doesn’t say everything is okay when it’s not.”
That one mattered.
Then:
“I had a dad. His name was Alan. He loved me. Dominic doesn’t erase him.”
My eyes filled.
“He had a son. His name was Mateo. I don’t erase him either.”
The courtroom became silent.
Then the last line.
“We’re not replacing people. We’re making more family.”
The judge looked at me.
“Mr. Moretti, did you coach this child?”
“No.”
“Clearly.”
Even I laughed.
The adoption was approved three weeks later.
Lily Reese Moretti.
She refused to remove Reese.
“That’s Dad’s name.”
“Good.”
“And Moretti is yours.”
“Yes.”
“I get both.”
“Yes.”
The first night after it became official, she taped a sign to her bedroom door.
LILY REESE MORETTI
DAUGHTER
NO KNOCKING AFTER 9
I knocked at 9:03.
She opened the door.
“You can’t read?”
“I wanted to test enforcement.”
“It’s strong.”
She slammed the door.
I smiled for ten minutes.
My cancer continued shrinking.
By spring, Enrico used the word I had stopped hoping for.
Remission.
Not cure.
Not forever.
Remission.
I called Lily from the hospital.
She answered on video.
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
“How good?”
“Very.”
“Say it.”
“Remission.”
She screamed.
Teresa screamed behind her.
Marco appeared in the frame wearing an apron.
I stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Pancakes.”
“Why?”
Lily grinned.
“Celebration.”
I looked at Marco.
“You know how?”
“No.”
“They’ll be terrible.”
Lily nodded.
May you like
“Family tradition.”
That nearly broke me.
