Chapter 10 - The Father Who Owned Everything
Alexander reached the safe apartment twenty-three minutes after Lorenzo's call.
The front door hung open.
A lamp lay broken in the hallway.
There were signs of a struggle near the kitchen.
But no blood.
Alexander ran through the rooms.
"Lucy!"
No answer.
"Elena!"
Silence.
Eleanor was gone.
Frank was gone.
Even Lucy's stuffed rabbit had disappeared.
Benjamin stood beside the kitchen counter.
His right arm was wrapped in a temporary bandage.
Alexander stopped.
"Where is she?"
Benjamin looked at him.
"Sir—"
"Where is my daughter?"
"They took her."
Alexander advanced.
"How?"
"Three men entered through the rear stairwell."
"What happened to you?"
"One of them had a stun device."
Alexander stared at his injured arm.
"You were supposed to protect her."
Benjamin lowered his head.
"I know."
Alexander looked around the room.
For one terrible second, he wanted someone to blame.
Someone he could hurt.
Someone who could make the unbearable feeling disappear.
Then he remembered what Eleanor had told him.
Your father wants you angry.
He stepped back.
He took a breath.
"Tell me everything."
Benjamin looked up.
"They came in disguised as building maintenance."
"Elena recognized one of them."
"Who?"
"Arthur Sloane."
Alexander closed his eyes.
The silver-handed man.
"Where's Elena?"
"She tried to stop them."
"And?"
"They took her too."
Alexander looked at the empty couch.
"My mother?"
Benjamin nodded.
"She refused to leave Lucy."
Alexander pressed his hands against the counter.
"Why wasn't the building secure?"
Rebecca answered from the doorway.
"Because someone leaked the location."
Alexander turned.
She stood beside Mercer.
Her face was pale.
"We're investigating the breach."
Alexander stared at her.
"You promised me federal protection."
"I know."
"My daughter is four years old."
Rebecca took the accusation without defending herself.
"I know."
Alexander looked at Mercer.
"How did they find us?"
Mercer hesitated.
"We believe Ashford's office had access to a court filing that revealed the building."
Alexander felt sick.
"Your court filing?"
Rebecca nodded.
"Restricted, but not restricted enough."
Alexander laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"My father has been buying people for forty years."
He looked toward the open door.
"And you thought a sealed document would stop him."
Rebecca stepped closer.
"We're changing the operational command structure."
"Good."
"We're bringing in a separate federal team."
"Better."
"And Alexander?"
He turned.
"We're going to get them back."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"Tell me what you need."
Across town, inside an abandoned medical complex, Lucy sat on a narrow bed beside her grandmother.
Elena stood at the door.
Two guards watched from the hallway.
Arthur Sloane leaned against the wall.
His silver prosthetic hand clicked softly each time he flexed it.
Lucy stared at the movement.
"Why does your hand make that noise?"
Sloane looked at her.
"Because it's not a real hand."
"Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes."
"Mommy says people get mean when they hurt."
Sloane's expression shifted.
Eleanor pulled Lucy closer.
"Lucia, sweetheart, come sit with me."
The little girl looked at him.
"Are you mean because your hand hurts?"
Sloane said nothing.
Elena turned toward the guard.
"She needs food."
"Later."
"She's four."
"Then she can wait."
Eleanor rose.
"She will eat now."
The guard laughed.
"Sit down, Grandma."
Eleanor stepped closer.
"I have spent twenty-seven years being ordered around by men who believed power made them important."
The guard's smile faded.
"I'm not going to take instructions from another one."
Sloane straightened.
"Get the child something to eat."
The guard hesitated.
"Mr. Sloane—"
"Now."
The man left.
Lucy studied Sloane.
"You're a little bit nice."
Sloane looked away.
Eleanor noticed.
She had known Arthur Sloane for nearly four decades.
She knew the accident that took his hand.
She knew the money Lorenzo had offered afterward.
And she knew the debt Lorenzo had used to keep him obedient.
"Arthur," she said quietly.
He stiffened.
"Don't."
"You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do."
"No."
His silver fingers clicked.
"You don't understand."
Eleanor looked at him.
"Then help me understand."
Sloane turned toward her.
"Your husband owns every part of my life."
"Not every part."
He laughed bitterly.
"My pension."
"My house."
"My medical coverage."
"My son's college fund."
"All controlled by companies he can shut down."
Eleanor stepped closer.
"And your conscience?"
Sloane looked toward Lucy.
The child was sitting on the bed, whispering something to her stuffed rabbit.
He looked away.
"That stopped being useful years ago."
At 4:30 that afternoon, Lorenzo Moretti called Alexander again.
This time, the call came through an encrypted video link.
Alexander sat in a federal operations room.
Rebecca, Mercer, and a technical team monitored silently.
Lorenzo appeared on screen.
He wore a dark sweater.
His white hair was neatly combed.
He looked healthier than Alexander remembered.
"Alexander."
Alexander stared.
"You're alive."
Lorenzo smiled.
"Obviously."
"Where is my daughter?"
"Safe."
"Let me see her."
"All in good time."
Alexander leaned forward.
"You took my wife."
"She made a series of unfortunate choices."
"You stole my daughter."
"Lucia is a Moretti."
"She's mine."
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
"Everything you have is mine."
Alexander shook his head.
"Not anymore."
His father smiled.
"You're still a boy."
"Then why are you hiding from me?"
The smile faded.
Alexander continued.
"You taught me that powerful men don't run."
"And now you've spent five years pretending to be dead."
Lorenzo leaned toward the camera.
"Be careful."
"No."
Alexander's voice sharpened.
"You be careful."
"I have your daughter."
"And I know exactly what you're capable of."
Lorenzo watched him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then the old man said, "I want the archive."
Alexander felt Rebecca shift beside him.
"What archive?"
"Don't insult me."
"I don't have it."
"Isabella told you where to look."
"Then ask Isabella."
Lorenzo's expression changed.
Alexander caught it.
"You don't have her anymore."
His father said nothing.
Alexander leaned forward.
"That's why you're doing this."
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
"You're making assumptions."
"You're holding my daughter because you lost control of my wife."
"Alexander—"
"Where is Isabella?"
Lorenzo smiled coldly.
"Perhaps you should ask the woman who helped her escape."
Alexander froze.
"What woman?"
Lorenzo turned the camera.
Elena appeared.
She sat on a metal chair with her hands bound.
There was a bruise on her cheek.
Alexander stood.
"Elena!"
She looked up.
"Alexander, don't give him anything!"
A guard struck the table beside her.
She flinched.
Lorenzo turned the camera back.
"The archive."
Alexander's voice dropped.
"Let me see Lucy."
Lorenzo watched him.
Then nodded.
The screen shifted.
Lucy sat beside Eleanor.
Her face was wet with tears.
"Daddy!"
Alexander gripped the table.
"I'm here, sweetheart."
"Grandma says we're being brave."
His throat tightened.
"She's right."
"Are you coming?"
"Yes."
Lorenzo pulled the camera away.
"Forty-eight hours."
Alexander looked at him.
"If you don't deliver the original archive, the next time you see your daughter will be in a photograph."
Rebecca touched Alexander's arm.
He forced himself not to react.
"Where do you want to meet?"
Lorenzo smiled.
"Where this family began."
The screen went black.
Alexander stared at the empty monitor.
Mercer turned toward him.
"What does that mean?"
Alexander swallowed.
"The original Moretti factory."
Rebecca opened a map.
"Where?"
"South Chicago."
"Is it still operating?"
"No."
Alexander looked at the address.
"It burned down when I was sixteen."
He paused.
"The same year my mother supposedly died."
Priya, who had been reviewing the old records, suddenly looked up.
"Alexander."
He turned.
"I found something."
"What?"
"An insurance claim from the factory fire."
Alexander frowned.
"So?"
Priya enlarged the document.
"The beneficiary was Northbridge Administrative Trust."
He stared.
"The payout was substantial."
"How substantial?"
"Forty-eight million dollars in today's money."
Alexander looked at the paperwork.
Priya continued.
"And the fire investigator's report listed three missing workers."
Elena's father's name appeared among them.
Thomas Bell.
Alexander leaned closer.
The second name was unfamiliar.
The third made his blood run cold.
ELEANOR MORETTI.
His mother had not merely been declared dead after a medical crisis.
She had been listed as a victim in a factory fire that happened months before her supposed hospital death.
Alexander looked at Rebecca.
"My father didn't forge one death certificate."
May you like
He tapped the document.
"He built an entire business around making people disappear."
