Chapter 7 - Unraveling the Web
Within an hour, the truth of the conspiracy was laid bare across the mahogany table in Dominic’s downstairs study.
Raymond DeLuca had been skimming Moretti funds for over a decade, utilizing shell companies and manipulating vulnerable family members like Sophia and her son Ethan by promising them independent control of the lucrative North Shore shipping routes once Victor passed away. When Victor’s stroke didn't kill him as quickly as they hoped, Raymond began orchestrating slow medical sabotage, utilizing Ethan’s access to the family wing to administer minute doses of cardiac-suppressant drugs.
Sophia sat in the corner of the study, weeping hysterically while two armed guards stood by the door. Ethan was locked in the reinforced holding room downstairs.
Dominic stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the dark, churning Atlantic Ocean. His back was turned to the room. Raymond DeLuca sat bound in a wooden chair in the center of the study, his nose bloodied, his composure entirely shattered.
“Dominic... please,” Raymond wheezed, blood staining his white collar. “I built this empire with your father. We spilled blood together—”
Dominic slowly turned around. His face was an absolute mask of stone. He walked over to the desk, picked up the micro-cassette recorder Claire had given him earlier, and pressed play. The room filled with Raymond’s own voice from a recorded phone call two nights prior, detailing instructions on how to bypass the electronic logs on Victor’s monitors.
Dominic clicked stop. The silence that followed was suffocating.
“You built nothing, Raymond,” Dominic said quietly, his voice carrying the finality of a judge passing a death sentence. “You were an employee who forgot his place. And you involved a child in your cowardice.”
Dominic looked toward the guards. “Take him to the dry docks in South Boston. Let the tide figure out the rest.”
“No! Dominic, please!” Raymond screamed as the guards hauled him out of the room, his voice echoing down the marble hallway until the heavy iron basement door slammed shut.
Sophia buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Dominic looked down at his sister with cold, unforgiving eyes. “Pack your bags, Sophia. You and your son leave this estate before sunrise. If I ever see your faces in Massachusetts again, even the lawyers won't be able to find you.”
She scrambled out of the room without uttering another word.
When the heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving only Dominic and Claire standing in the vast, quiet study, the tension in the air shifted. It was no longer the tension of war; it was the heavy, breathless quiet of an aftermath.
Claire stood near the door, her medical bag slung over her shoulder. She looked at Dominic, realizing that the monster the underworld whispered about was real, yet beneath the terrifying exterior lay a man who had just protected his father from being murdered by his own blood.
“Where are you going?” Dominic asked, his voice losing its lethal edge as he looked directly at her.
“My shift ended twenty minutes ago, Mr. Moretti,” Claire replied softly. “And I think your father doesn’t need a nurse anymore. He needs a family that won't try to poison him.”
Dominic walked slowly across the room, stopping just inches away from her. Up close, the scar near his eyebrow seemed less intimidating, softened by the amber light of the study lamps.
“My father hasn't laughed in five years, Claire,” Dominic said, using her first name for the very first time. “You made him laugh on your very first day. And you saved his life tonight.”
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“I did my job,” Claire said, though her breath hitched slightly under his intense gaze.
“No,” Dominic replied, a faint, genuine smile finally breaking through his hardened facade. “You did a lot more than that. And I don't let people walk away who know too much about my family—unless they agree to stay.”
