Victor didn’t reply. The arrogance had finally evaporated, leaving behind a
small, frightened man who realized that his money couldn’t buy his way out of a
federal indictment.
I sat on the bumper of an ambulance, a blanket draped over my shoulders,
watching the circus of flashing lights. Elena was already on her way to a
private hospital, guarded by two of my best men and a federal agent. She was
safe. For the first time in two years, she could breathe.
But the work wasn’t over. A man like Victor has roots that run deep, and I
intended to dig up every last one of them.
“You okay, Adrian?” Agent Grant asked, stepping over to me.
“I will be,” I said, looking at the handcuffs lying discarded on the
pavement—the ones Captain Ross had put on me. “How long until the subpoenas hit
his partners?”
“They’re being served as we speak,” Grant replied. “By dawn, Victor Hale won’t
have a single friend left in this hemisphere. Everyone is going to be too busy
trying to cut a deal to save themselves.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I want him to watch everything he built turn into a
weapon against him.”
But as I looked at the smoldering ruins of Victor’s life, a cold thought struck
me. Men like Victor don’t go down without trying to take everyone with them. And
he still had one card left to play—a secret he had been keeping since our
father’s funeral.
A secret that could destroy the Moretti name forever.
Chapter 4: The Ghost of the Moretti Legacy
By 2:00 a.m., the city was a hive of activity. Federal agents were hauling boxes
of documents out of Hale Construction headquarters. The local news had picked up
the story, and “The Fall of Victor Hale” was already trending.
I was at the hospital, sitting in a plastic chair outside Elena’s room. She had
three cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, and a concussion, but the doctors said
she would recover. The physical wounds would heal; the psychological ones would
take much longer.
When I was finally allowed to see her, the room was quiet, lit only by the soft
glow of the heart monitor. She looked so small in the hospital bed, her face
pale against the white sheets.
“He’s gone, Elena,” I whispered, taking her hand.
She opened her eyes, and for the first time, the terror was gone. It was
replaced by a weary, profound relief. “Is it really over?”
“It’s over. He’s in federal custody. The foundation’s money has been frozen and
will be returned. You’re free.”
She squeezed my hand. “He told me you’d never come. He told me you were just a
‘paper tiger’ who didn’t care about anything but your ships.”
“He was wrong about a lot of things,” I said.
“Adrian…” she hesitated. “He found something. Before he took me to the
warehouse. He found the old files from Father’s estate. The ones about the
Bancroft Project.”
My blood ran cold. The Bancroft Project was a ghost from our father’s past—a
development deal that had gone horribly wrong thirty years ago, involving a
collapsed building and a cover-up that had nearly sent our father to prison. It
was the reason he had spent his final years in a state of quiet, desperate
penury.
“He said if he goes down, he’s taking the Moretti name with him,” Elena
whispered. “He has the original ledgers. The ones that prove Father knew the
concrete was faulty.”
I felt a surge of cold fury. Even in defeat, Victor was trying to poison the one
thing we had left: our father’s memory.
“Let him try,” I said, though my mind was already racing.
I left the hospital and headed straight to the federal holding facility. I
didn’t care about the hour. I had the kind of influence that opened doors
at 4:00 a.m.
Victor was sitting in a small, sterile interrogation room. He looked terrible.
His expensive coat was gone, replaced by a gray jumpsuit. He looked older,
smaller, and utterly defeated—except for his eyes. His eyes were still full of
venom.
He picked up the phone behind the reinforced glass.
“Adrian,” he whispered. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“You’re done, Victor. Give it up.”
“Not quite,” he sneered. “I have the Bancroft files. My lawyer has instructions.
If I don’t get a favorable plea deal by noon, the whole world finds out that
your precious father was a murderer who let a building collapse on forty people
for a profit.”
