Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind My Father's Glass Tower
“My uncle was the last person seen with Naomi. If she's hurt, someone in this family is going to answer for it.”
Gabriel stood across from me in the apartment kitchen.
“Dante, listen carefully. You cannot walk into Moretti Tower and start accusing people without knowing what happened.”
“That's exactly what I'm going to do.”
“Then you'll make it easier for them to hide the truth.”
I hated that he was right.
Outside the kitchen, Lily was laughing at something Julie had said.
Her laughter stopped me.
Whatever happened next, I couldn't afford to behave like the man I'd been before meeting her.
Anger had always served me well in the Moretti world.
But anger couldn't give Lily the childhood she'd already lost with me.
I took a breath.
“Get copies of the original security footage before anyone can erase it.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Already requested from our independent systems contractor.”
“And I want someone watching this apartment.”
“Two people are already in position.”
I turned toward the living room.
Julie looked up.
“Did you find Naomi?”
“We found evidence she visited my father's office.”
Julie's face tightened.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
She pulled Lily closer.
“Naomi promised she'd never go there.”
I crouched beside them.
“Julie, I'm going to find her.”
She studied me.
“Your family took five years from her.”
“I know.”
“Five years, Dante. She was alone when Lily was born. She worked two jobs. She cried at night because she thought you had agreed to abandon them.”
The words cut deeper than any accusation.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
Julie looked toward Lily.
“But knowing isn't the same as fixing it.”
I nodded.
She was right.
It was becoming painfully clear how much of my life had been built on people obeying me, fearing me, or needing something from me.
Julie needed something different.
She needed me to become trustworthy.
An hour later, I entered Moretti Tower through the main lobby.
The building rose above Manhattan like a monument to my family's arrogance.
Forty-six floors of glass, steel, and money.
My father's private offices occupied the top two floors.
My uncle Carlo controlled much of the company's financial operations from the thirty-eighth.
I had spent my entire adult life believing those floors represented achievement.
Now they felt like a fortress.
My father's secretary stood when I arrived.
“Mr. Moretti, your father isn't expecting—”
“I know.”
I opened the office door.
Vittorio Moretti sat behind a black marble desk overlooking Manhattan.
His silver-gray eyes lifted from a document.
The same eyes Lily had inherited.
The resemblance suddenly made me sick.
“Dante,” he said calmly. “I heard your flight landed.”
I closed the door.
“Where's Naomi Ellis?”
He didn't move.
For several seconds, he simply watched me.
Then he placed his pen on the desk.
“That's a name I haven't heard in years.”
“Don't.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Don't what?”
“Don't pretend.”
He leaned back.
“You're upset.”
“She's missing.”
My father's expression hardened slightly.
“Who told you that?”
“Answer the question.”
He stood.
“Watch your tone.”
I stepped closer.
“Five years ago, Naomi disappeared from my life. Yesterday, she entered this building with your authorization. Where is she?”
He looked toward the windows.
“She came to discuss an old misunderstanding.”
“What misunderstanding?”
“Financial records. Things she believed she'd discovered while working on a charitable project.”
I stared at him.
“The Harbor Light Trust?”
“Yes.”
“And you authorized her visit?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't think it concerned you.”
I let that answer settle.
“The woman I loved returns after five years, enters your office, and disappears again. And you don't think that concerns me?”
Vittorio's jaw tightened.
“Naomi caused you enough pain the first time.”
A cold fury moved through me.
“She gave birth to my daughter.”
For the first time, my father lost his composure.
His eyes widened.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Who told you that?”
“She's four years old.”
My father slowly lowered himself into his chair.
I watched him carefully.
He wasn't surprised Naomi had been pregnant.
He was surprised I knew.
“You knew,” I said.
He remained silent.
“You knew I had a child.”
“Dante—”
“Four years. You let me live four years without knowing my daughter existed.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“You don't understand what Naomi was involved in.”
“Then explain it.”
My father stared at me.
“There were people who believed she had stolen confidential company information.”
“Did she?”
“She copied documents she wasn't authorized to possess.”
“Documents showing missing charitable funds?”
He said nothing.
I leaned forward.
“Was Carlo involved?”
My father looked away.
That was enough.
“Where is he?”
“Your uncle is traveling.”
“Convenient.”
Vittorio rose again.
“Your uncle has spent thirty years protecting this family.”
“From what? Honest questions?”
“From people who would destroy everything we've built.”
I looked around the office.
The expensive paintings.
The private elevator.
The enormous city below us.
Then I thought about Naomi raising our daughter alone.
“What exactly have we built, Dad?”
He stared at me.
For a moment, I thought I saw something resembling regret.
Then it disappeared.
“You need to stop asking questions about Naomi.”
“Why?”
“Because you have no idea how dangerous this situation has become.”
I stepped toward the door.
“Then I'll find out.”
As I reached for the handle, my father spoke again.
“Dante.”
I turned.
“If you truly have a daughter, keep her away from Carlo.”
The words stopped me.
“Why?”
My father looked older than he had ten minutes earlier.
“Because your uncle doesn't tolerate unfinished business.”
I left without answering.
Gabriel was waiting in the lobby.
His expression told me something had changed.
“We got the footage,” he said.
“Show me.”
He led me into a private conference room and opened his laptop.
Naomi appeared on the screen.
She was following Carlo toward the private elevators.
Carlo touched her elbow.
She pulled away.
Then both disappeared into the elevator.
Gabriel advanced the recording.
Three minutes later, the elevator reached a restricted service level.
An area rarely used except for archived records and maintenance access.
Carlo stepped out first.
Naomi followed.
Then a second man entered the frame.
Tall.
Dark suit.
A familiar scar across his cheek.
I knew him.
Adrian Voss.
Carlo's chief security operative.
Five years earlier, Adrian had handled some of our family's most unpleasant disputes.
On the screen, he reached for Naomi's arm.
She recoiled.
Gabriel paused the recording.
“There's more.”
He played the next few seconds.
Naomi looked directly toward the security camera.
Her lips moved.
Gabriel enlarged the image.
I couldn't hear her.
But I recognized the words.
“Tell Dante the truth.”
May you like
Then Adrian reached up and covered the camera.
The screen went black.
