Chapter 6 - The Son Who Finally Chose a Side
Adrian listened to his father breathe.
For years, Warren Cross had been the largest man in every room Adrian entered.
Not physically.
Psychologically.
Warren’s approval could turn a mediocre achievement into victory.
His disappointment could turn success into shame.
Adrian had spent thirty-four years trying to become a son worthy of being introduced.
Now he understood something terrible.
His father had trained him to confuse obedience with love.
“Where are you?” Adrian asked.
Warren laughed.
“Not with Moretti, I hope.”
Adrian looked at Lucien.
Then Evelyn.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“You disappoint me.”
The words still worked.
Adrian’s shoulders moved slightly.
Evelyn saw it.
Then he straightened.
“No,” Adrian said. “I think I finally disappointed the right person.”
Warren’s voice changed.
“Careful.”
“You killed Daniel Vale.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“You ordered it.”
“I protected this family.”
“There it is.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“The phrase that excuses everything.”
Warren hung up.
Lucien looked at Adrian.
“That was either brave or stupid.”
“Probably both.”
“For once we agree.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
Then Daniel’s flash drive revealed the rest.
Hundreds of records documented a network spanning fifteen years.
Warren had used Moretti shipping access and Vittorio’s criminal contacts to move illegal money through legitimate projects.
Vittorio believed he was a partner.
The accounting told a different story.
Warren had quietly diverted millions into private accounts.
He had also compiled evidence against Vittorio and several old Moretti associates as insurance.
A blackmail empire hiding inside a criminal one.
Lucien studied every page.
“My uncle thought he was protecting the old organization.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“But Warren was using him.”
“Yes.”
Teresa stared through the museum windows at the water.
“I raised an arrogant son.”
Lucien glanced at her.
“Grandmother.”
“No. Truth should not suddenly become uncomfortable because it reaches our own table.”
She turned.
“Vittorio wanted power. Warren made him feel powerful while turning him into a servant.”
Adrian looked sick.
“And my father used me too.”
Evelyn did not soften the truth.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
The federal prosecutor Lucien contacted arrived that afternoon.
Rachel Mercer had known Lorenzo Moretti.
She listened to Daniel’s recording twice.
Then she looked at Lucien.
“If you hand this over, there is no controlling where the investigation goes.”
“I know.”
“That includes you.”
“I know.”
“Your grandmother.”
Teresa lifted a brow.
“If prison food is terrible, I expect Lucien to improve the kitchens.”
Mercer almost smiled.
Then she looked at Evelyn.
“Your father tried to contact my office three days before he died.”
Evelyn stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He never reached me.”
“Why?”
“The message was intercepted by an investigator later convicted of corruption.”
Warren.
Vittorio.
The network went deeper.
Mercer continued.
“Daniel’s death was classified as cardiac arrest because toxicology was never requested.”
Evelyn sat down.
“You think he was poisoned.”
“I think an exhumation may be necessary.”
The room tilted.
For nine years Evelyn had visited her father’s grave believing his heart simply stopped.
Now even grief was being rewritten.
Lucien moved closer but did not touch her.
She reached for his hand herself.
His fingers closed around hers.
Adrian saw.
Something changed in his face.
Not anger.
Acceptance.
For the first time, he looked at Evelyn without trying to imagine how to bring her back.
Mercer copied the evidence.
The operation became official.
Warren and Vittorio were now targets of a federal investigation.
That should have made Evelyn feel safer.
Instead, it made the danger desperate.
Cornered men did unpredictable things.
Lucien returned to Manhattan that night.
Evelyn went with him.
Adrian voluntarily entered protective custody long enough to provide testimony.
Teresa returned to her apartment under federal protection and immediately complained about agents drinking bad coffee.
At two in the morning, Evelyn stood barefoot in Lucien’s kitchen.
Neither of them had slept properly in days.
Lucien poured whiskey.
She took the glass from his hand.
“You’ve had enough.”
He looked at her.
“That was my first.”
“It looked like your third.”
“You’re becoming controlling.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
He smiled.
A real smile.
It transformed him.
For one second she saw the boy Teresa must have known before responsibility carved stillness into him.
Evelyn placed the glass down.
“Are you going to prison?”
“I don’t know.”
“Helpful.”
“You asked a question I cannot answer.”
“What did you sign?”
“Shipping authorizations. Payments. Acquisition documents.”
“Did you profit?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know the money was criminal?”
“Eventually.”
“And after you knew?”
“I froze several operations without reporting them.”
“Why?”
“To dismantle the network without creating a war.”
“Did it work?”
“For a while.”
“And now?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not making yourself sound better.”
Lucien watched her.
“Most women I date prefer reassurance.”
“Most women you date probably don’t discover your possible federal indictment between two kisses.”
“Fair.”
Evelyn leaned against the counter.
“Do you date often?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Trust.”
“You don’t?”
“Rarely.”
“Yet you told me about your crimes.”
“You asked.”
“That cannot be the entire reason.”
Lucien was quiet.
Then, “You kissed me before you knew who I was.”
Evelyn laughed.
“That is your foundation for trust?”
“You wanted something from me.”
“To make Adrian jealous.”
“No.”
She frowned.
“You wanted escape.”
He stepped closer.
“You did not want money. Access. Protection. A contract. A favor.”
“Just your mouth.”
His gray eyes darkened.
Evelyn realized what she had said.
“Poor phrasing.”
“I didn’t mind it.”
Heat rose to her face.
“That might be the first time I’ve seen you flirt.”
“It isn’t.”
“Your flirting usually sounds like a threat.”
“I’m working on that.”
She smiled.
Then his hand touched her waist.
Slowly.
Questioning.
Evelyn closed the distance.
The kiss was deeper this time.
Not desperate.
Not careful.
Weeks of emotion condensed into seconds.
When they broke apart, Lucien rested his forehead against hers.
“I should tell you something.”
“That sentence has never ended well this week.”
“I knew who you were before the gala.”
“You told me.”
“No.”
She pulled back.
“What do you mean?”
Lucien looked toward the windows.
“My father left me a list of people connected to Daniel’s investigation.”
“Was I on it?”
“Yes.”
“As what?”
“Someone to protect if the past ever resurfaced.”
Evelyn went still.
“You have known my name for nine years?”
“Yes.”
“Have you been watching me for nine years?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Occasional background checks. After your engagement to Adrian, more frequently.”
She stepped away.
“You knew I was engaged to him.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Warren might be using me.”
“I suspected.”
“And you said nothing.”
Lucien’s silence answered.
Evelyn stared.
“You let me almost marry into that family.”
“I did not know why Warren wanted access to you.”
“You knew enough to investigate me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because if I had approached you without proof, I would have sounded exactly like what everyone says I am.”
“A dangerous stranger?”
“Yes.”
“You could have tried.”
“I should have.”
The simple admission made anger harder.
Not impossible.
Harder.
Evelyn turned away.
“Everyone in my life seems to have protected me by not telling me things.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I am one of them.”
She looked back.
Lucien’s expression held no defense.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology sat between them.
Evelyn did not forgive him immediately.
She appreciated that he did not ask.
Before she could answer, the penthouse lights went out.
Lucien moved instantly.
“Down.”
Evelyn crouched behind the kitchen island.
The emergency system should have activated.
It didn’t.
Lucien reached beneath a drawer and retrieved a handgun.
“Stay here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Evelyn.”
A window shattered.
Lucien pushed her to the floor.
Gunfire struck the wall.
Glass rained across the room.
Security alarms screamed.
Then another shot.
Lucien jerked.
Evelyn saw blood.
“Lucien!”
He collapsed against the counter.
Something inside her went cold.
Not panic.
Fury.
She pulled him lower.
“Where?”
“Shoulder.”
“Can you move?”
“Yes.”
Footsteps approached from the private hallway.
The attacker was inside.
Evelyn remembered the penthouse design.
She had planned events in this building.
Service corridor.
Hidden catering door.
She grabbed Lucien’s arm.
“Come with me.”
They moved behind the pantry.
Evelyn pressed a decorative panel.
Nothing.
“Come on.”
She pressed harder.
The door opened.
They entered the service corridor seconds before a man crossed the kitchen.
Lucien leaned against the wall.
“You know my apartment better than I do.”
“I know catering entrances.”
“Marry event planners.”
“Not the time.”
“It might be the blood loss.”
She tore fabric from a linen cover and pressed it against his shoulder.
His face tightened.
“Hold that.”
He obeyed.
They moved down one level.
Security flooded the building.
The attacker escaped.
Lucien survived.
The bullet passed through his shoulder.
At the private hospital, Evelyn remained beside his bed.
At dawn, he woke.
“You stayed.”
She looked up from the chair.
“Apparently.”
“I thought you were angry.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Means you’re still planning to argue.”
She shook her head.
“You got shot and became sentimental.”
“Temporary.”
Evelyn leaned closer.
“I’m still angry you knew about me.”
“I know.”
“I’m still angry you didn’t warn me.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not promising forgiveness today.”
“I know.”
She took his hand.
“But I’m here.”
Lucien looked at their hands.
Then at her.
For a man feared by half of Manhattan, the vulnerability in his face was almost unbearable.
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“If this ends badly for me—”
“No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
She leaned forward.
“You were going to decide what I should do without asking me.”
His mouth moved slightly.
“Fair.”
“Try again.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“If I’m indicted, if my companies collapse, if my name becomes something people throw at you, will you tell me what you want instead of staying because you think you owe me?”
Evelyn’s throat tightened.
“That’s better.”
“And?”
“I want breakfast.”
Lucien blinked.
“What?”
“It’s seven in the morning. I haven’t eaten.”
He laughed.
Then winced from his shoulder.
Evelyn smiled.
And for one brief morning, danger waited outside the room.
Then Nico entered.
His face killed the moment.
“Boss.”
Lucien sat straighter.
“What?”
“Warren Cross just went on television.”
Nico turned on the screen.
Warren stood outside Cross Development surrounded by reporters.
“My family,” he announced, “has been threatened, manipulated and blackmailed by Lucien Moretti.”
Evelyn’s blood chilled.
May you like
Warren continued.
“And I have documents proving Mr. Moretti has operated an organized criminal enterprise for nearly a decade.”
