Chapter 4 - The Man Who Came Back From the Dead
Victor Moretti arrived on Friday.
He parked outside the gates at noon.
Security intercepted him.
He demanded to see Lena.
When Dante heard, he went outside.
Victor was thirty-four.
Handsome in a polished, dishonest way.
Expensive coat.
Perfect hair.
Smile too comfortable for a man standing outside Dante Rickai's gates.
"I just want to see my daughter."
Dante stood in front of him.
"No."
Victor laughed.
"You must be Dante."
"I am."
"You've been very generous with my ex-wife."
Dante's expression didn't change.
"Careful."
Victor smiled.
"That's exactly what people say about you."
"Then people are smarter than you."
Victor's smile disappeared.
"I have legal rights."
"Not while you are under investigation."
Victor's eyebrows lifted.
"For what?"
Dante stepped forward.
"Pick one."
Victor's face hardened.
"You think money makes you untouchable."
"No."
Dante looked him directly in the eye.
"I know secrets do."
Victor froze.
It lasted less than a second.
But Dante saw it.
The fear.
"You know nothing about me."
"Then why are you sweating?"
Victor turned toward the gate.
"I want to see my daughter."
"You'll see her when a court approves it."
Victor stared at him.
"This isn't your family."
Dante's voice dropped.
"You're right."
He paused.
"Because if it were my family, you'd already be gone."
Victor left.
Lena watched from the upstairs window.
She was trembling.
Dante entered the house.
"You're safe."
She looked at him.
"Victor isn't the worst part."
"What is?"
"He never used to act like that."
"Like what?"
"Confident."
Dante understood.
Someone had given Victor protection.
Or money.
Or both.
That night, Lena finally told Dante everything.
Victor had not always been cruel.
After Sophia was born, he changed.
He became obsessed with money.
He started disappearing for days.
He received mysterious calls.
Then Lena discovered he was using Sophia's medical information to open accounts.
She confronted him.
He threatened her.
"I left because I thought he would kill me."
Dante's eyes darkened.
"Why didn't you tell the police?"
"I did."
"And?"
"They said I had no proof."
Dante looked away.
"I understand."
"No, you don't."
She stepped closer.
"I had a three-year-old and no money. He had lawyers."
Dante looked back at her.
"Now you have proof."
Lena frowned.
"What proof?"
"The records."
He tapped the laptop.
"These could connect Victor to someone inside my organization."
Lena's face tightened.
"Who?"
Dante didn't answer.
He zoomed in on a signature.
A familiar signature.
One he hadn't seen in years.
His own brother's.
Dante's brother, Luca, had died at twenty-six.
Car crash.
At least that was the official story.
Dante stared at the signature.
Impossible.
Or maybe not.
The next morning, a package arrived.
No return address.
Inside was an old photograph.
Three men stood beside a warehouse.
Thomas Moretti.
Adrian Vale.
Luca Rickai.
Lena's father.
Dante looked at the photograph.
On the back, one sentence had been written.
Your father lied to you.
Lena stared over his shoulder.
"My father was alive that day."
Dante nodded.
"And so was Luca."
Neither spoke.
A horrible realization spread through the room.
The deaths everyone had accepted might have been staged.
The missing money was still somewhere.
And whoever had controlled it for more than fifteen years was now interested in Sophia.
Because Sophia had something they desperately needed.
The child was sitting on the floor nearby, playing with her blocks.
Dante looked at her.
Then at the photograph.
He suddenly understood the biggest question.
Why had someone waited until now?
The answer came that evening.
Sophia's toy rabbit was missing.
Not lost.
Taken.
And this time, whoever had taken it left a note behind.
ASK HER MOTHER ABOUT THE LAST BOX.
Lena went pale.
Dante saw it.
"You know what that means."
She whispered.
"Yes."
May you like
"What?"
"My father left me one more thing."
