Chapter 6 - The Trial of a King
Nicholas struck before we could move.
A federal investigation suddenly opened into Moretti Holdings.
Anonymous allegations claimed Dante had concealed financial crimes.
The evidence was partly fabricated.
But it looked convincing.
News channels exploded.
Chicago became a storm of headlines.
The Moretti empire was collapsing.
Dante was arrested at his office.
I watched from the car as police escorted him away.
He turned once.
Our eyes met.
He didn't look afraid.
He looked apologetic.
I hated that.
Because I had learned something important.
Dante had spent years protecting everyone else by carrying everything alone.
Now he needed someone to stand beside him.
So I went public.
Not with accusations.
With evidence.
I gave investigators Olivia's files.
Then my mother's testimony.
Then Claire's recordings.
The case changed overnight.
Federal agents raided Nicholas's properties.
Adrian disappeared.
Sofia cooperated fully.
But Dante remained under investigation.
For three weeks, I visited him.
We barely spoke about the marriage.
We talked about the babies.
Names.
Nursery colors.
Books.
Things that felt normal.
One evening, he asked me something.
“Do you still wear your wedding ring?”
I looked down.
It was on the table.
“No.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
“I haven't divorced you yet.”
His head lifted.
“Why?”
“Because I haven't decided what our story becomes.”
He swallowed.
“I'll accept whatever you decide.”
It was the first time Dante had said something without trying to control the outcome.
Weeks later, the grand jury hearing began.
Nicholas appeared confident.
Adrian was still missing.
Then Claire walked into court.
She testified for six hours.
She described everything.
The manipulation.
The fake affair.
The shell companies.
The plan to control Dante.
The attempt to target me.
And Olivia’s death.
But the prosecution needed one more witness.
My mother.
She entered the courtroom carrying a folder.
She looked at Dante.
“I should have told you years ago.”
Dante shook his head.
“You were protecting my sister.”
“I was protecting my daughter.”
Nicholas sneered.
“This is fabricated.”
Then my mother opened the folder.
Inside was Victor Moretti's original ledger.
The one Olivia had hidden.
The one everyone had been searching for.
It included signatures.
Transfers.
Payments.
And Nicholas's handwriting.
The courtroom went silent.
Nicholas's face changed.
The defense attorney whispered something.
Nicholas shouted.
“You don't know what you're doing!”
My mother looked at him.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
For the first time, Nicholas looked afraid.
Two days later, Adrian was captured at O'Hare Airport.
He had a one-way ticket.
He confessed.
Not everything.
But enough.
He admitted that Nicholas had ordered Olivia's car to be sabotaged.
The confession ended the case.
Dante was cleared of the financial charges.
Nicholas was indicted.
Adrian entered a plea agreement.
And Claire received immunity in exchange for testimony.
Chicago breathed again.
But freedom didn't feel like victory.
Not yet.
Because Dante and I still had to face each other.
When he returned to the penthouse, he didn't enter like a king.
He stood at the door.
“I don't know whether I should come in.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I don't know if you still think this is my home.”
I stepped aside.
“Come in.”
He entered.
The penthouse looked different.
Maybe because I was different.
The next morning, I placed the divorce papers on the kitchen table.
Dante stared at them.
“Is this it?”
“No.”
He looked confused.
“I need you to sign something else.”
I handed him another document.
A separation agreement.
No control over my finances.
No restrictions on where I lived.
No access to my private medical information without permission.
Full protection for the twins.
And one final clause.
If we ever reconciled, it would be because we rebuilt the marriage from the ground up.
Dante read every page.
Then signed.
“You don't know how much I want to sign the other papers too.”
“I know.”
“Why won't you divorce me?”
“Because I don't know if I want to lose you.”
His eyes filled with tears.
I had never seen Dante Moretti cry.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever stop loving me?”
I looked at him.
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
Neither of us touched the other.
Not yet.
May you like
Trust was still broken.
But for the first time, we were building something that might survive.
