Chapter 9 - Gabriel Moretti Walked Away From His ThroneSix months after Rebecca texted the wrong number, Gabriel Moretti called a meeting of every senior executive in Moretti Holdings.
Forty-three people gathered inside the top-floor boardroom overlooking Chicago.
Rebecca was not present.
She had refused.
“This is your decision,” she told him.
“But you influenced it.”
“That isn’t the same as needing to watch it.”
Gabriel accepted that.
At 9:00 a.m., he stood at the head of the table.
His uncle remained in custody awaiting trial.
Daniel had pleaded guilty to multiple charges, including unlawful confinement and fraud.
Marcus had entered his own agreement with prosecutors.
The financial network had collapsed.
But Gabriel still controlled the structure that allowed it to exist.
He looked around the boardroom.
“My father wanted this company changed.”
Nobody spoke.
Gabriel placed Vittorio’s letter on the table.
“Today it changes.”
He announced an independent board.
External audits.
The dissolution of shell companies.
Full cooperation with financial investigators.
Then came the part nobody expected.
Gabriel began dismantling the illegal side of the Moretti empire.
Some men objected.
Others threatened.
Several resigned.
Two disappeared.
Gabriel expected all of it.
For months, his security doubled.
Contracts ended.
Territory changed hands.
People who had once depended on the Moretti name for protection discovered Gabriel no longer intended to operate by the same rules.
It was not clean.
It was not simple.
Real life rarely offered a single heroic speech followed by instant transformation.
But the direction changed.
And kept changing.
Rebecca watched from a distance.
She had moved out of the guest house.
That decision surprised Gabriel.
He did not object.
She rented a small apartment near Evanston.
Two bedrooms.
Old hardwood floors.
A kitchen window facing a maple tree.
The first night she slept there, she cried.
Not because she was sad.
Because every key belonged to her.
She could lock the front door.
Unlock it.
Leave.
Return.
Nobody needed permission.
Gabriel visited for dinner two weeks later.
He stood awkwardly in the kitchen.
Rebecca laughed.
“You own hotels and you’re confused by my stove.”
“It’s very small.”
“It’s normal.”
“Debatable.”
She handed him a knife.
“Cut the onions.”
“I have people for this.”
“Not here.”
He looked at her.
Then started cutting.
Terribly.
Rebecca took the knife away.
“You’re embarrassing your family.”
“My family has survived worse.”
That made both of them laugh.
Later, they sat on the floor because Rebecca’s couch had not arrived.
Gabriel looked around.
“You’re happy here.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She studied him.
“You mean that.”
“Of course.”
“A small part of me expected you to hate that I left the estate.”
“A small part of me did.”
Rebecca smiled.
“But?”
Gabriel leaned back against the wall.
“The first time I met you, you were trapped behind a locked door.”
His expression softened.
“I’m never going to become another reason you feel trapped.”
Rebecca’s eyes stung.
She reached for his hand.
Rebecca did not return to housekeeping.
Not because there was anything shameful about the work.
She simply wanted something different.
The financial investigation had awakened an interest she never knew she possessed.
Numbers.
Paper trails.
Fraud detection.
How small inconsistencies exposed large lies.
She enrolled in evening accounting courses.
Gabriel offered to pay.
Rebecca refused.
He offered again.
Rebecca threatened to throw him out of her apartment.
He stopped offering.
Margaret secretly paid for one textbook.
Rebecca discovered it and allowed the gift because, as Margaret explained, “I’m seventy-one. Let me win something.”
By spring, Rebecca began working with a nonprofit that assisted employees exploited through wage theft and financial fraud.
Her experience made her unusually good at understanding victims who felt embarrassed about not noticing manipulation earlier.
She never told them they should have known.
She knew better.
Enzo’s trial began nine months after his arrest.
The evidence was overwhelming.
The ledger.
Marcus’s testimony.
Daniel’s records.
Vittorio’s audio.
Financial transactions.
The attempted framing of Rebecca.
After six weeks, the jury returned its verdict.
Guilty.
Conspiracy.
Fraud.
Money laundering.
Obstruction.
And charges connected to Vittorio’s death.
Gabriel sat beside Rebecca when the verdict was read.
This time she had asked him to.
Enzo showed almost no reaction.
Until Gabriel stood to leave.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel stopped.
Enzo looked older.
The polished businessman had disappeared.
“What happens now?”
Gabriel considered the question.
Then answered.
“We live differently.”
He walked away.
Outside the courthouse, reporters waited.
Gabriel ignored them.
Rebecca did too.
They walked three blocks before either spoke.
Finally Rebecca asked, “How do you feel?”
Gabriel considered lying.
Then remembered who he was speaking to.
“Sad.”
Rebecca squeezed his hand.
“That seems reasonable.”
“I thought I’d feel relieved.”
“You probably will.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at her.
Rebecca smiled.
“You told me you wouldn’t lie to reassure me.”
“That rule applies both ways?”
“Unfortunately.”
Gabriel laughed.
Then his phone rang.
Adrien.
Gabriel answered.
Rebecca watched his face change.
Not fear.
Surprise.
“What?” she asked when he ended the call.
Gabriel looked at her.
“They found something in Enzo’s storage facility.”
“What?”
“A box of my father’s belongings.”
Rebecca’s smile disappeared.
Inside the box were photographs.
Letters.
Old St. Catherine documents.
And one envelope addressed to Gabriel.
Not the letter Margaret had protected.
Another.
Written years earlier.
Gabriel opened it that evening.
Inside was a single sheet.
His father had written:
Gabriel, if you ever inherit everything I built, remember that keeping an empire is not the same as deserving one. A man’s legacy is measured by what becomes safer because he lived.
Gabriel read the sentence three times.
Rebecca sat beside him.
“What are you thinking?”
He folded the paper.
“That my father could be extremely dramatic.”
Rebecca laughed.
“You’re definitely his son.”
Gabriel smiled.
Then became serious.
“I want to reopen St. Catherine.”
Rebecca blinked.
“The trust?”
“Not the old organization.”
“What then?”
“A new foundation.”
“For churches?”
“For shelters. Legal assistance. Housing. People leaving abusive homes.”
Rebecca stared at him.
Gabriel continued.
“With independent oversight.”
“Obviously.”
“No Moretti controlling the accounts.”
“Smart.”
“No secret funds.”
“Even smarter.”
He looked at her.
“I want Margaret on the board.”
Rebecca laughed.
“She’ll terrify everyone.”
“That’s the idea.”
“And me?”
Gabriel’s expression changed.
“I want you involved.”
Rebecca waited.
“But only if you want it.”
There.
Again.
Choice.
She smiled.
“I’ll think about it.”
Gabriel looked offended.
“You’re supposed to say yes.”
“No.”
“Rebecca.”
“You wanted independent oversight.”
“I’m reconsidering.”
She kissed him before he could continue.
Three months later, construction began on the first St. Catherine Community Center.
The building stood on the site of the abandoned church where Marcus had held Margaret.
Rebecca had initially hated the idea.
Too many memories.
Then Margaret said something that changed her mind.
“Bad men don’t deserve permanent ownership of the places where they hurt us.”
So they rebuilt.
The cellar beneath the church was removed completely.
Rebecca insisted.
In its place, architects designed an open courtyard.
No locked rooms.
No dark underground spaces.
Sunlight reached almost every corner.
On opening day, Rebecca stood in the center of the courtyard while children ran past her.
Gabriel approached.
“You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Go away.”
He smiled.
Then handed her something.
A brass key.
Rebecca stared at it.
Her entire body tensed before she could stop herself.
Gabriel noticed.
“Not what you think.”
“What does it open?”
“The front door.”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“Because you’re the new director.”
Rebecca looked up.
“What?”
Gabriel smiled.
“The board voted.”
“You’re on the board.”
“I abstained.”
“Margaret?”
“Threatened three people.”
Rebecca laughed through her tears.
Gabriel closed her fingers around the key.
“You decide who comes through that door.”
She stared at the small piece of metal.
A key.
Once, Daniel had taken her keys before locking her underground.
Now she held one to a building designed to help other people escape.
Rebecca whispered, “My life is very strange.”
Gabriel smiled.
“You texted a mafia boss by accident.”
“That really was my first mistake.”
“Your first?”
She hit his arm.
He laughed.
May you like
Then Rebecca looked around the courtyard.
Maybe not every wrong number was a mistake.
