Chapter 4: The Man Who Disappeared
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing through my ears.
My father's name.
The man who had supposedly died in a private boating accident when I was twenty-three.
The man whose funeral I had attended beside my grandfather.
The man whose death had changed the direction of my entire life.
I looked down at Isabella's letter again.
Ask your grandfather what happened to the man who tried to help me escape.
My father had died seven years ago.
Isabella had disappeared six years ago.
What possible connection could there be?
I looked at Evelyn.
"Tell me exactly what you meant.""
She glanced at her daughter.
"Isabella should tell you.""
"Mom, please.""
"No."" Evelyn's voice cracked.
"I've kept quiet for six years. I've watched my daughter wake up every morning and pretend she wasn't carrying a piece of her heart around like a stone. I've watched four little boys ask why they don't have a father. I'm done protecting people who never protected us.""
Isabella wiped her cheeks.
"Mom, the boys are here.""
"They deserve the truth someday.""
"They're six.""
"And Dominic deserves to know what his family did.""
I looked at the four boys.
Noah was sitting on the rug with a toy truck. Ethan was coloring. Lucas was trying to balance a dinosaur on his head, while Caleb watched him with absolute fascination.
They were blissfully unaware that their family history was being dismantled three feet away.
"Can we talk somewhere private?"" I asked Isabella.
She hesitated.
Then she turned to her mother.
"Can you take them into the kitchen?""
Evelyn nodded.
"Come on, boys. Grandma bought those little chocolate muffins you like.""
Four pairs of eyes immediately brightened.
"Chocolate?"" Noah asked.
"With sprinkles," Evelyn replied.
The boys disappeared into the kitchen.
Isabella walked toward the small dining table.
I followed.
She didn't sit.
Neither did I.
"Start with my father," I said.
She stared at the floor.
"Your father found out I was pregnant before I disappeared.""
My chest tightened.
"How?""
"I told him.""
I blinked.
"You knew my father?""
"Of course I knew him, Dominic. I spent Christmas with him. I helped him plant those ridiculous tomato plants behind his house. He was the only person in your family who ever treated me like I belonged.""
I remembered.
My father, Anthony Moretti, had adored Isabella.
He used to tease me that I would have to become a better man if I wanted to deserve her.
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?""
"I tried. Your father wanted to tell you himself.""
I gripped the back of a chair.
"When?""
"Three days before he died.""
The room seemed to tilt.
Isabella continued.
"He called me that afternoon. He said he had discovered something about your grandfather and wanted to meet me. He sounded frightened, Dominic. Your father never sounded frightened.""
"What did he discover?""
"I don't know everything. He said Vittorio had been using family businesses to move money through companies that didn't officially exist. He said there were people involved who could hurt anyone who got too close.""
I stared at her.
My grandfather had always been ruthless.
But I had never imagined he could be responsible for my father's death.
"Did you meet him?""
She nodded.
"At his house. He showed me documents. Bank transfers.
Names. Photographs. He said he wanted to take everything to federal investigators.""
"Why didn't he?""
"Because he died.""
I closed my eyes.
I could still remember the phone call.
The hospital.
My grandfather standing outside the intensive care unit, telling me there had been an accident.
I remembered asking whether my father had suffered.
Vittorio had told me it was quick.
He had told me not to look at the body because I would remember him differently.
I had listened.
God help me, I had listened.
"Did my father know about the babies?"" I asked.
Isabella nodded.
"He knew I was carrying four.""
My throat tightened.
"What did he say?""
She gave a small, broken smile.
"He cried.""
I looked at her.
"He cried?""
"He said Anthony Moretti was going to have four grandchildren and that he intended to spoil every single one of them.""
For a moment, I could almost see my father.
His broad smile.
His ridiculous laugh.
The way he used to sneak me extra dessert when my grandfather wasn't looking.
"Did he ever see them?""
Isabella shook her head.
"No.""
I lowered my eyes.
My father had died before his grandchildren were born.
And I had spent six years believing the woman he loved like a daughter had abandoned me.
"How did he die?"" I asked.
Isabella looked toward the kitchen.
"Dominic, I need you to understand something. I don't have proof that Vittorio caused the accident.""
"But you suspect him.""
"I suspect he knew more than he told the police.""
I sat down.
"Tell me what happened the night you left.""
She took a slow breath.
"Three days after Anthony's death, your grandfather came to my apartment. He brought a lawyer. He told me you were grieving and needed to focus on taking over the business.""
"He had no right.""
"He told me that your father had left behind debts and dangerous enemies. He said if I stayed with you, I would become a target.""
"That was a lie.""
"Maybe. But he showed me photographs.""
"What photographs?""
"Pictures of you leaving the office. Pictures of me walking home. Pictures of my mother outside her house.""
My hands tightened.
"He was watching us?""
"Yes.""
She swallowed.
"Then he showed me a photograph of you standing outside a warehouse. There was blood on your shirt. He said you had ordered someone to be beaten because they had threatened the family.""
I stared at her.
I remembered the incident.
A shipping manager had stolen money and attacked one of our employees when confronted. I had been there when the security team restrained him.
But I hadn't ordered anyone beaten.
Vittorio had handled the situation afterward.
"That wasn't what happened.""
"I know that now.""
"Why didn't you ask me?""
Her eyes filled.
"Because your grandfather had something else.""
"What?""
"A recording.""
I went still.
"What recording?""
She looked at me as if she hated the memory.
"Your voice. You were saying that if anyone came near Isabella or the baby, you would make sure they regretted it.""
I frowned.
"I never said that.""
"That's what I thought when I first heard it. But your grandfather told me it was a conversation between you and one of his men.""
I stood.
"Did he play it for you?""
"Yes.""
"Do you still have it?""
"No. He took it away.""
I began pacing.
A recording.
Photographs.
Threats.
Money.
Everything suddenly looked like a carefully constructed trap.
"Why didn't you tell the police?""
"Because he told me that if I did, he would make sure you went to prison.""
"For what?""
"He said there were documents with your signature on them. Documents that connected you to the money he was moving.""
I stopped.
My signature.
There were thousands of documents with my signature.
Contracts. Approvals. Corporate transfers.
I had trusted my grandfather's office to prepare them.
I had trusted him.
Isabella touched my arm.
"Dominic, I didn't know what was real anymore. I was pregnant with four babies. Your father was dead.
Your grandfather had people following me. I had no idea who I could trust.""
I looked at her.
"And the money?""
"He offered it as part of the agreement. He said it would guarantee the boys had everything they needed, as long as I never contacted you.""
"Why did you accept?""
Her expression hardened.
"Because I was twenty-nine, pregnant with four children, and terrified. I wasn't going to gamble with their lives to prove I was brave.""
I had no answer.
Then I heard a small voice behind me.
"Mom?""
Caleb stood in the doorway.
He held a chocolate muffin in both hands.
"Are you sad?""
Isabella immediately knelt.
"No, sweetheart.""
"Your eyes are shiny.""
She smiled.
"That's because I'm tired.""
Caleb considered this.
Then he broke his muffin in half and handed her the larger piece.
"You can have mine.""
Isabella kissed his forehead.
"Thank you, baby.""
I looked away.
I couldn't bear it.
A six-year-old boy was comforting the woman who had protected him from a world I hadn't even known existed.
And I had missed all of it.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Marco.
*Sir, I found the original police report from your father's accident. Something doesn't match the official timeline. Call me immediately.*
I looked at Isabella.
"I need to go.""
Her expression tightened.
"Dominic, don't do anything reckless.""
"I need to find out what happened to my father.""
"Promise me something.""
"What?""
"Don't let Vittorio know what you know.""
I looked toward the kitchen, where four little boys were laughing.
Then I looked back at her.
"I can't promise that.""
Her face went pale.
"Then you haven't changed as much as I hoped.""
I walked toward the door.
Before leaving, I turned around.
"Isabella?""
She looked at me.
"I never stopped loving you.""
Her lips trembled.
"That's what makes this so difficult.""
I left without another word.
But as I reached my car, my phone rang.
Marco.
"Mr. Moretti, I need you to come to the office.""
"What's wrong?""
"I found the accident report. The boat was never recovered.""
I stopped walking.
"What?""
"And there's something else.""
"Tell me.""
Marco hesitated.
"Your father made a phone call less than an hour before he supposedly died.""
"To whom?""
"Your grandfather.""
A cold sensation spread through my chest.
"Anything else?""
May you like
Marco lowered his voice.
"Yes, sir. The call was recorded.""
