Chapter 5 - THE MAFIA BOSS WHO COULDN'T BUY FORGIVENESSVincent found out about my new apartment six days after the fire.
Not because I told him.
Because someone inside the Moretti family's security network had apparently continued tracking my movements.
That discovery frightened me enough to ask Madison to review every account and device connected to our marriage.
By the following morning, she had arranged for a digital security specialist to help me change passwords, protect my communications, and remove devices I no longer trusted.
I discovered that Vincent could previously access my location through a family phone plan.
He had always called it a safety precaution.
Now I understood how easily protection could become surveillance.
At ten that morning, Madison received a call from the apartment building's security desk.
Vincent Moretti was downstairs.
He wanted to see his wife.
Madison looked at me.
“You don't have to speak with him.”
I had been avoiding his calls for days.
But there were things I needed to say.
Things I wanted him to hear while looking directly at me.
“I'll speak to him in the conference room downstairs,” I said. “With you present.”
Madison nodded.
“And security nearby.”
Twenty minutes later, Vincent walked into the small conference room.
I almost didn't recognize him.
His expensive black suit was wrinkled.
Dark shadows surrounded his eyes.
His normally immaculate hair looked as though he'd been running his hands through it for hours.
He stopped when he saw my ankle brace.
“Claire.”
I remained seated.
“Vincent.”
He took one step toward me.
Madison spoke immediately.
“Please remain on your side of the table.”
He looked at her with irritation.
Then he looked back at me.
“Baby, I've been trying to find you.”
The old nickname struck something painful inside me.
“Don't call me that.”
He swallowed.
“Claire, please. I know you're angry.”
I stared at him.
“Angry?”
He lowered his eyes.
“I know what I did was wrong.”
“You locked me in a room while I was in pain.”
“I thought you were trying to stop me from leaving.”
“You blocked my phone.”
He looked away.
“I was frustrated.”
“Our house caught fire.”
“I didn't know!”
His voice rose.
Then he noticed Madison watching and forced himself to breathe more slowly.
“I didn't know there was a fire, Claire.”
I leaned forward.
“That's exactly why people don't lock other people inside rooms, Vincent.”
He stopped speaking.
I continued.
“You didn't need to know the house would burn. You only needed to understand that I had the right to leave it.”
For a moment, his expression crumpled.
“I know.”
“No. You know now. That's different.”
He reached into his jacket and placed a document on the table.
“I bought a house for you. Anywhere you want. You never have to set foot in the mansion again.”
I didn't touch it.
Then he produced another envelope.
“There's money in an account in your name. Enough to live comfortably forever.”
I looked at the man who had spent his entire life buying solutions.
“Vincent, how much money would you pay to hear our baby's heartbeat?”
His hand froze.
I watched the question strike him.
“How much?”
He stared at me.
“Claire...”
“Ten million dollars? Fifty million?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Please don't.”
“Then stop offering me things money can buy.”
He covered his mouth with one hand.
For several seconds, he seemed incapable of speaking.
Then he whispered:
“I want another chance.”
I shook my head.
“You had one when I told you something was wrong.”
“Claire—”
“You had another when I said I was pregnant.”
His eyes lowered.
“And another when I called you sixteen times.”
A tear slipped down his face.
I didn't feel satisfaction.
I felt tired.
“Every time you had a choice between listening to me and pleasing Sophia, you chose her.”
He wiped his face.
“I'll never see her again.”
Madison exchanged a brief glance with me.
I looked at Vincent.
“That's your decision. It doesn't change mine.”
His expression sharpened.
“What decision?”
“I want a divorce.”
For the first time, I saw genuine panic.
“No.”
“Vincent—”
“No, Claire. We can fix this.”
“Not everything can be fixed.”
He stood abruptly.
Madison immediately rose.
“Mr. Moretti, sit down.”
Vincent stared at me.
“You're my wife.”
I met his eyes.
“I am a person before I'm anyone's wife.”
That silenced him.
After a long moment, he slowly sat down.
I took off the wedding ring Madison had brought from the hospital and placed it on the table.
“I don't want this anymore.”
Vincent looked at the diamond.
He made no attempt to touch it.
Then he asked quietly:
“Did Sophia come to see you again?”
The question surprised me.
“No.”
He looked relieved.
That reaction told me more than he intended.
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“She says people are blaming her for the fire.”
I stared at him.
“What people?”
“Some of the investigators have been asking questions.”
My pulse quickened.
“About Sophia?”
Vincent looked uncomfortable.
“About the foundation. About her father.”
Madison leaned forward.
“Mr. Moretti, if you have information relevant to an active investigation, you should provide it to the police.”
He ignored her.
“Claire, Sophia has known me my entire life. She wouldn't hurt you.”
I felt something harden inside me.
Even now.
Even after everything.
His instinct was to protect her.
“Vincent, you don't know what she's capable of.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you do?”
I thought about Luca.
The warehouse.
The photograph.
The security authorization.
But I wasn't going to reveal those details to a man who had repeatedly shown he could not separate loyalty from truth.
“I know I'm not safe around people who refuse to listen.”
Vincent studied me.
Then his expression changed.
“Someone has been talking to you.”
I remained silent.
“Who?”
Madison stepped forward.
“This meeting is over.”
Vincent looked at me one final time.
“Claire, don't trust anyone who wants to destroy my family.”
I answered quietly.
“Your family was doing a pretty good job of that without my help.”
He left without taking the ring.
That evening, Madison showed me several articles circulating online.
A gossip account had published claims that I suffered from severe jealousy and emotional instability.
Another suggested the mansion fire might have resulted from a domestic argument.
Neither had evidence.
But the accusations were spreading.
One anonymous source claimed I had tried to manufacture a medical crisis to prevent Vincent from attending Sophia's birthday.
I stared at the screen.
The woman who had nearly died inside a locked room was being portrayed as the danger.
Madison closed the laptop.
“We're preserving everything. You don't have to respond publicly.”
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Detective Ruiz.
“Claire, we've obtained the complete gate-access records from the night of the fire.”
My heart began pounding.
“Did you find Owen?”
“Not yet. He hasn't reported to work, and his apartment appears to be empty.”
I sat straighter.
“Where did he go?”
“We're investigating.”
Ruiz hesitated.
“There's something else. We found evidence that someone remotely renewed your bedroom's master lock after Vincent left the property.”
I stared at Madison.
“What?”
“Someone used an administrator account to keep the door secured.”
My mouth went dry.
“Whose account?”
Ruiz's voice lowered.
“It belonged to Owen Kessler.”
I closed my eyes.
Vincent had locked the door.
But someone else had made certain it stayed locked.
Then Ruiz delivered the final piece of news.
“Owen withdrew a large amount of cash the morning after the fire. We also recovered a message indicating he was paid for an assignment.”
“What assignment?”
“We don't have the full communication yet.”
She paused.
“But the payment description was only three words.”
I gripped the phone.
May you like
“Tell me.”
“Final occupant clearance.”
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