Chapter 10 - THE BETRAYAL AT MORETTI MANOR
The Moretti family gathering took place on a Sunday evening.
Gabriel hadn't wanted to attend.
But his attorney advised him that the family trustees were meeting to discuss the contested business-authority documents.
Several relatives had demanded explanations.
Vincent's representatives were insisting that the medical decisions had been lawful.
And the financial arrangements continued to threaten the stability of companies employing hundreds of people.
Gabriel agreed to attend with his own counsel and independent security.
He did not ask me to come.
That mattered.
Moretti Manor stood outside Chicago on fifteen acres of wooded land.
The house was enormous.
Stone walls.
Tall windows.
A circular driveway.
A dining room large enough to host thirty people.
For generations, the family had used the mansion to celebrate weddings, negotiate business agreements, and conceal conflicts from the public.
That evening, it became the place where everything began to unravel.
Gabriel arrived in his wheelchair.
Luca accompanied him.
Across the dining room sat Vincent Moretti.
Thirty-four years old.
Well dressed.
Handsome.
Calm.
The kind of man who could smile while destroying someone's life.
When Gabriel entered, Vincent stood.
“Cousin.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Sit down.”
Vincent's smile faltered.
Around the table, relatives exchanged nervous glances.
Gabriel placed a folder in front of the family trustees.
“These are the documents you were told I signed.”
One trustee leaned forward.
“Yes.”
Gabriel continued.
“I did not authorize the expanded transfer of control described in the second version.”
Vincent sighed.
“Gabriel, you've been seriously ill.”
A murmur moved through the room.
There it was.
The suggestion that Gabriel's memory couldn't be trusted.
That his injuries made him unreliable.
That Vincent was the reasonable one.
Gabriel didn't raise his voice.
Instead, he opened another folder.
“These are the medical records from my independent evaluation.”
Vincent's expression changed.
The attorney beside Gabriel explained that the documents raised serious questions about the unauthorized procedure and the circumstances under which the business certifications were obtained.
The family trustees listened.
Some looked horrified.
Others looked toward Vincent.
He remained silent.
Then Gabriel asked one question.
“Why did you pay Dr. Kessler before I was shot?”
The room went still.
Vincent smiled faintly.
“Business consulting.”
“Medical consulting?”
“Gabriel—”
“Did you authorize the second procedure?”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
His attorney intervened, advising him not to answer.
Gabriel nodded.
“Fine.”
He looked around the table.
“Then the investigators can determine the answer.”
The meeting ended without reconciliation.
Several trustees voted to suspend disputed authorizations pending independent legal review.
Other relatives refused to take sides.
Vincent left through a side entrance.
But he made one mistake before leaving.
He approached Luca.
And whispered something.
Luca's expression changed.
“What?”
Vincent smiled.
“Tell Gabriel that the nurse won't always be around to save him.”
Luca went cold.
Then he stepped backward.
For years, he might have responded with violence.
Instead, he recorded the threat in his incident report and contacted Gabriel's attorney.
I learned what happened that evening.
Rebecca called me.
“Claire, Vincent made a threat involving you.”
I sat down.
“What kind?”
She explained.
My stomach tightened.
For a moment, I considered leaving Chicago.
Taking my mother somewhere nobody knew us.
Starting again.
But then I thought of the nurses who had abandoned Gabriel's penthouse because they were afraid.
The medical professionals who had ignored suspicious records.
The surgeon who had disappeared.
And Gabriel, who had nearly died because someone counted on everyone being too frightened to ask questions.
I took a breath.
“Rebecca, what do I need to do?”
“Preserve every message. Cooperate with the police. Avoid unnecessary contact with anyone connected to Vincent.”
I nodded.
Then asked, “And Gabriel?”
A pause.
“He's asking the same question about you.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, I realized something.
Gabriel and I were both frightened.
But neither of us needed the other to surrender their freedom to prove they cared.
That night, I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“Hello.”
His voice changed.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“Good.”
I waited.
Then said, “I heard about the meeting.”
He was silent.
“I'm sorry,” I added.
“For what?”
“That someone you loved betrayed you.”
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then he whispered, “I don't know what hurts more. The surgery or remembering how much I trusted him.”
My eyes filled.
“Gabriel.”
“Yes?”
“You don't have to become cruel to survive this.”
He closed his eyes.
May you like
“I know.”
And for the first time, I believed he meant it.
