Chapter 3 - The Confrontation
In a private estate on the outskirts of Lake Forest, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Vincent Moretti sat at the head of a massive mahogany dining table, the shadow of the dimly lit chandelier casting sharp angles across his face. Beside him stood his head of security, Marco, a scarred veteran of the Moretti family who had served Vincent’s father before him.
In front of the table stood my mother, Eleanor Bennett, and my adopted sister, Sophia.
Sophia was sobbing hysterically. "Vincent, please! She’s lying! Claire is trying to ruin us! She bought a orphan child or staged this entire thing just to steal your fortune back!"
Vincent didn't move. He didn't speak. He simply picked up a heavy crystal glass of scotch, swirled it slowly, and set it back down. The quiet clink of glass on wood sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.
"Marco," Vincent said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Bring me the medical records from St. Catherine’s Hospital. October 14th, seven years ago."
Eleanor Bennett’s face drained of color. "Vincent... son... there’s no need to dig up the past. You know how unstable Claire was after the birth. She was hysterical. She wanted to abandon the child—"
BANG!
Vincent slammed his palm down on the table so hard the crystal glass shattered, scotch spraying across the mahogany. Sophia screamed, jumping back.
"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" Vincent roared, standing up, his tall frame towering over them like an impending doom. "I remember that night! I came back down to the ward after checking on Sophia! You stood in the hallway, Eleanor! You looked me in the eye and said Claire’s baby suffered severe fetal distress! You said the girl was born dead!"
Eleanor trembled, stepping behind Sophia. "We... we did it for you, Vincent! You needed an heir! A strong male heir to lead the family! Claire had a girl! She was weak, she wasn't built for this life! Sophia gave you Lucas!"
Vincent took two slow, deliberate steps toward Eleanor. His grey eyes were devoid of any humanity, filled only with a terrifying, predatory darkness.
"You took my daughter from me," Vincent whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and grief. "You made me walk away from my own flesh and blood. You let me live seven years believing I had buried a child."
"Vincent, please!" Sophia begged, dropping to her knees and clutching his pants leg. "Think of Lucas! He’s your son! He loves you! Don't let Claire destroy our family!"
Vincent looked down at Sophia as if she were a total stranger. The woman he had elevated, protected, and showered with luxury while his real wife and daughter lived in exile.
"Lucas will be taken care of," Vincent said coldly, kicking his leg free from her grasp. "But as for you... and your mother... you are no longer part of this house. Marco, take their phones. Lock them in the east wing suites. No contact with the outside world until I say so."
"Vincent! You can't do this!" Sophia shrieked as two burly guards dragged her and Eleanor toward the heavy iron doors.
Vincent turned his back on their screams. He picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn't called in seven years.
Across town, in the quiet hotel room, my phone vibrated on the glass table. I looked down at the caller ID.
Unknown Number.
May you like
I picked it up and pressed it to my ear, remaining silent.
"Claire," Vincent’s voice came through the line, broken, breathless, and full of raw pain. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know I am a monster in your eyes. But I beg you... let me see my daughter."
