Chapter 4 - THE SON WHO THOUGHT HE WAS UNWANTED
Gabriel Moretti arrived at the estate the next evening carrying an overnight bag and eight months of anger.
He had his father's dark eyes, his late mother's thick black hair, and the guarded expression of someone who had spent years learning not to expect apologies.
Abigail saw him through the entrance hall windows.
He stood beside his rental car for almost a minute before walking toward the house.
Rafael opened the front door.
“Gabriel.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes.”
“Did Vanessa leave?”
“She isn't permitted inside the private residence.”
Gabriel exhaled.
“Good.”
He stepped into the foyer and stopped.
Abigail approached.
“You must be Gabriel.”
He studied her scrubs.
“Are you the nurse?”
“Yes. Abigail Carter.”
“My dad said you helped him.”
“He did the important part. He told someone what was happening.”
Gabriel looked toward the staircase.
“Is he really okay?”
“He's receiving appropriate medical care and further assessments. He'd like to speak with you.”
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
“Vanessa said he couldn't remember my name.”
Abigail didn't conceal her concern.
“That's something you should discuss with him directly.”
He nodded.
Then quietly asked, “Does he still have the photograph of us at the lake?”
“Yes. It's on his desk.”
Gabriel's expression crumpled for half a second.
Then he turned away.
“Okay.”
Lorenzo had dressed carefully for the visit.
He wore a charcoal sweater, dark trousers, and the watch his wife had given him on their tenth anniversary.
His wheelchair stood beside the study window.
When Gabriel appeared in the doorway, Lorenzo stopped breathing.
Neither moved.
Then Gabriel said, “You look older.”
Lorenzo gave a shaky laugh.
“You look taller.”
“I'm twenty-eight, Dad.”
“I know.”
The words hung between them.
Gabriel walked into the room.
“Do you?”
Lorenzo lowered his eyes.
“I know I missed your birthday.”
“You missed a lot more than that.”
“Yes.”
“You missed my engagement.”
Lorenzo looked up sharply.
“Your what?”
Gabriel stared.
“My engagement, Dad. Emily and I got engaged in March.”
Lorenzo's expression broke.
“I didn't know.”
Gabriel reached into his pocket and unfolded a letter.
“You sent this.”
Lorenzo looked at the paper.
The signature resembled his handwriting.
But the words were cruel.
They accused Gabriel of disloyalty, greed, and disrespect. They told him never to return.
Lorenzo read the letter slowly.
His hands began to shake.
“I didn't write this.”
Gabriel swallowed.
“Vanessa said you dictated it.”
“No.”
“She said you were tired of me questioning her.”
Lorenzo looked up.
“I was asking why you never called.”
Gabriel's eyes filled.
“I called every week.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Every week?”
“Until she told me you wanted me to stop.”
The silence was unbearable.
Then Lorenzo whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Dad—”
“I'm sorry I believed her. I'm sorry I let her decide who could see me. I'm sorry you had to wonder whether your own father wanted you.”
Gabriel looked down.
“I thought the accident changed you.”
“It did.”
Lorenzo's voice trembled.
“But not the way she said.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
For a moment, he stood beside the wheelchair, unsure how to embrace his father without hurting him.
Lorenzo lifted his arms.
That was all it took.
Gabriel bent down.
They held each other.
Neither spoke.
Outside, Abigail quietly closed the door.
An hour later, Miriam joined them with copies of the disputed letters.
Gabriel had brought emails, text messages, and records of phone calls that Vanessa claimed never happened.
Some had been answered from Lorenzo's devices.
Others had been blocked.
The pattern extended beyond Gabriel.
Two longtime friends had been told Lorenzo was too ill for visitors.
His physical therapist had been dismissed.
A rehabilitation specialist's recommendations had never reached him.
Even Rafael had been given instructions supposedly issued by Lorenzo that Lorenzo could not remember making.
Miriam spread the documents across the table.
“We need an independent examination of the signatures and the electronic records.”
Gabriel looked at his father.
“Why would she do this?”
Lorenzo's face hardened.
“Control.”
“Of your money?”
“Perhaps.”
“Of your companies?”
“Almost certainly.”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Dad, I know you don't like talking about the business.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“You're right.”
“But some of those men are dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“And if Vanessa has been telling them you're incapable of leading—”
“They may already be acting without my authority.”
Miriam closed the folder.
“That's why we're proceeding through lawful channels and preserving the records. Nobody confronts anyone alone.”
Lorenzo gave a bitter smile.
“That's going to be difficult for some of my people.”
“Then they'll have to learn,” Miriam answered.
At dinner, Gabriel insisted on making pasta.
The kitchen staff were horrified.
Rafael looked as though the world was ending.
Lorenzo watched from the breakfast room while his son argued with the chef over how much garlic belonged in the sauce.
“Your mother used to do that,” Lorenzo said.
Gabriel turned.
“Argue about garlic?”
“About everything.”
Gabriel smiled.
“She would've liked Emily.”
“I'd like to meet her.”
“You will.”
The simple promise filled the room.
Abigail arrived to review Lorenzo's evening care plan.
She found flour on the counter, tomato sauce on Gabriel's sleeve, and Lorenzo laughing.
For the first time since taking the assignment, the estate sounded like a home.
Then Gabriel noticed her.
“Abigail, come eat.”
“Thank you, but I'm working.”
Lorenzo glanced at her.
“You haven't eaten since lunch.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You've been counting?”
“I notice things.”
She smiled.
“Apparently.”
Gabriel filled a small container.
“Take it for later. My grandmother would've considered it an insult if you didn't.”
Abigail accepted it.
“Thank you.”
As she left, Lorenzo watched her.
Gabriel noticed.
“She's different,” he said quietly.
Lorenzo looked away.
“She's my nurse.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Your expression did.”
Gabriel laughed.
Then grew serious.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Don't mistake being grateful to someone for being in love with them.”
Lorenzo looked at his son.
“I know.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Good.”
But later, alone in his room, Lorenzo found himself thinking about Abigail.
Not because she'd saved him.
Because she'd looked directly at him when everyone else had looked at his wheelchair.
And for a man who'd spent nearly a year being treated as though he were disappearing, being seen felt dangerously close to hope.
The following morning, Miriam received an urgent call.
An application had been submitted to a court seeking emergency authority over portions of Lorenzo's personal and financial affairs.
The supporting materials included Dr. Hargrove's disputed medical reports.
Vanessa was named as the proposed decision-maker.
And someone had attached a sworn statement claiming Gabriel Moretti supported the request.
Gabriel stared at the document.
“I never signed anything.”
Miriam's expression darkened.
“Then someone may have forged more than letters.”
Lorenzo looked toward Abigail.
For the first time, his anger did not collapse into helplessness.
He turned back to Miriam.
“Fight it.”
She nodded.
“We will.”
He looked at Gabriel.
“Together.”
Gabriel took his father's hand.
“Together.”
And somewhere across the city, Vanessa Kensington received word that Gabriel had returned.
She stared at the message.
Then picked up her phone.
“It's me,” she said.
“The son is back.”
A man's voice answered.
“Then we move the vote forward.”
Vanessa looked toward the skyline.
“How soon?”
“Forty-eight hours.”
May you like
She smiled coldly.
“Perfect.”
