Chapter 3 - Seven Years Stolen
Dominic did not remember sitting down.
One moment he was standing with Elena’s letter in his hands.
The next, the chair was beneath him.
Lily sat across the table.
Seven years old.
Blond hair.
Gray-blue eyes.
Her mother’s mouth.
His father’s habit of lifting one eyebrow when confused.
Dominic immediately hated himself for noticing.
Children were not puzzles.
She was not evidence.
She was a little girl hugging a rabbit while adults dismantled the story of her life around her.
Elena reached for the letter.
Dominic gave it back.
No argument.
No demand.
Just silence.
Lily looked between them.
“Why is everybody acting weird?”
Elena knelt beside her.
“Sweetheart, Anthony is going to take you to get hot chocolate.”
“I don’t want hot chocolate.”
“You always want hot chocolate.”
“Not when people are hiding things.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Almost.
Elena gave him a look.
He cleared his throat.
“She has a point.”
“You’re not helping.”
Salvatore remained near the door.
Dominic had nearly forgotten him.
Nearly.
“Anthony,” Dominic called.
His security chief appeared.
“Take Lily to the café. Stay where Elena can see you through the glass.”
Elena hesitated.
Anthony said gently, “She won’t leave your sight.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“Marshmallows?”
Anthony nodded solemnly.
“Negotiable.”
“Two.”
“Done.”
Lily followed him.
The moment the door closed, Dominic turned toward Salvatore.
“You intercepted her letter.”
Salvatore remained calm.
“I protected you.”
“From my child?”
“From a woman who would have destroyed everything you were being prepared to inherit.”
Elena flinched.
Dominic stood.
Salvatore lifted one hand.
“Control yourself.”
Dominic stared at that hand.
Seven years earlier, those words might have worked.
Not anymore.
“What did Elena ask me for in that letter?”
Salvatore said nothing.
“Money?”
“No.”
“Marriage?”
“No.”
“A job?”
“No.”
Dominic looked at Elena.
She answered quietly.
“I asked you to meet me.”
That was all.
He turned back to his uncle.
“She asked me to meet her.”
“You were twenty-nine.”
“I was an adult.”
“You were about to take control of the family.”
“That was my decision.”
“Your father was dying.”
“My decision.”
“The organization was unstable.”
“My decision.”
“Everything we had spent decades building—”
“My decision!”
The glass walls seemed to tremble with the force of his voice.
Lily looked over from the café.
Dominic immediately lowered his tone.
Elena noticed.
So did Salvatore.
Dominic walked closer to his uncle.
“You told me Elena left because she was afraid of my life.”
“She was.”
“You told me she returned every letter.”
“She would have.”
“You intercepted them.”
“I prevented distraction.”
Dominic stared at him.
“You stole seven years.”
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
“Do not become sentimental because a child appeared in your lobby.”
Dominic’s face went blank.
That frightened Salvatore more than shouting would have.
Elena stepped forward.
“Enough.”
Both men looked at her.
“This is not happening around Lily.”
Dominic nodded immediately.
Salvatore gave a dismissive breath.
That was a mistake.
Elena looked at him.
“You came to my apartment seven years ago.”
Salvatore said nothing.
“You told me Dominic knew about the pregnancy.”
“I told you what needed to be said.”
“You said he wanted nothing to do with us.”
Salvatore’s eyes shifted.
“You offered me money.”
Dominic turned.
“What money?”
Elena opened her bag.
From an interior pocket, she removed a folded bank envelope.
Old.
Worn.
Inside was a cashier’s check.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Never deposited.
Payable to Elena Rossi.
Authorized by Moretti Family Holdings.
Dominic looked at the signature.
Salvatore Moretti.
“This is real,” Dominic said.
Elena nodded.
“I kept it because I knew someday someone would tell me I imagined that conversation.”
Dominic looked at his uncle.
“Get out.”
Salvatore’s jaw tightened.
“We are not finished.”
“Yes, we are.”
“You think a forged HR document matters compared with what will happen if the board hears—”
“The board will hear everything.”
Salvatore laughed.
“You believe they’ll choose you over me?”
Dominic leaned slightly forward.
“I don’t need them to choose.”
For the first time, uncertainty entered Salvatore’s eyes.
Then Anthony appeared at the door.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“We found Claire Whitman.”
Elena stood.
“Where?”
“Hospital.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
Elena covered her mouth.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Can she talk?”
Anthony hesitated.
“Not yet.”
Dominic looked toward Salvatore.
His uncle showed no reaction.
Too little reaction.
Dominic noticed.
“So,” Salvatore said, adjusting his coat, “now automobile accidents are my fault too?”
“No one said that.”
“You were thinking it.”
Dominic looked directly at him.
“I am now.”
Salvatore walked out.
Anthony watched him leave.
“Want him followed?”
“Yes.”
Dominic looked through the glass toward Lily.
“Discreetly.”
Elena rubbed her temples.
“This is insane.”
“No.”
Dominic looked at the old letters.
“This is organized.”
That frightened her more.
Anthony returned twenty minutes later with a records officer carrying a gray archival box.
The original 1998 Employee Relief Trust Agreement had been stored offsite.
Page fourteen contained amendments.
Dominic, Elena, and Anthony gathered around it.
The amendment authorized transfers between employee relief accounts and approved vendors under emergency conditions.
Two signatures were required.
Dominic’s father.
And Salvatore.
Elena examined the page.
“This isn’t what Claire meant.”
Dominic agreed.
“Keep going.”
Page fifteen.
Sixteen.
Seventeen.
Nothing.
Then Elena turned back.
“Wait.”
She held page fourteen toward the light.
“What?”
“There’s an indentation.”
Dominic leaned closer.
A removed page had once been pressed against it.
Writing from that missing page had left faint impressions.
Anthony brought a forensic light.
Letters emerged.
Dominic could make out only fragments.
NO TRANSFER…
SOLE BENEFICIARY…
AUDIT…
Then a name.
MARGARET MORETTI.
Dominic’s mother.
He stared.
“My mother amended the trust?”
“Maybe,” Elena said.
“She wasn’t on the board.”
“Maybe that’s why someone removed it.”
Anthony stepped out to call legal.
Elena sat beside the box of old letters.
Dominic remained standing.
“You never told Lily about me.”
It was not an accusation.
Elena’s shoulders lowered.
“No.”
“Why?”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“The truth.”
“The truth I had was that you knew she existed and paid me to disappear.”
Dominic absorbed that.
“I would never have done that.”
“I know that now.”
“Did you?”
Elena looked at him.
“Not then.”
He looked away.
That hurt.
But he had no right to ask her to have trusted the man she had been told abandoned her.
“Does she have my last name?”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
“Good.”
Elena blinked.
“You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because Moretti men tend to care about things like that.”
“I care whether she was loved.”
Elena’s face softened despite herself.
“She was.”
“Is.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“She’s a wonderful kid.”
“I noticed.”
“She also ignores instructions.”
“I noticed that too.”
“That part might be yours.”
Dominic finally smiled.
Small.
Brief.
Real.
Elena looked down before he could see what it did to her expression.
Dominic took a breath.
“I’m not asking for anything.”
“Good.”
“But if she is my daughter—”
“She is.”
The certainty stopped him.
Elena continued.
“I had a test done after she was born.”
Dominic stared.
“How?”
“You left a toothbrush at my apartment.”
“That’s legal?”
“No.”
Despite everything, he laughed.
Elena almost did too.
Then her expression turned serious.
“I needed certainty. For myself.”
“And you never tried again to contact me?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Twice.”
“How?”
“Once through your office.”
Dominic’s mouth tightened.
“Salvatore.”
“Probably.”
“The second time?”
“Your mother.”
Dominic froze.
“My mother?”
Elena nodded.
“She came to see me.”
“When?”
“Three months after Lily was born.”
Dominic’s voice nearly failed.
“My mother knew?”
“She held Lily.”
He turned away.
Margaret Moretti had died five years ago.
She had never told him.
“Why?”
“She said she needed time.”
“For what?”
“To fix something.”
Dominic turned back.
“What?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
Elena looked toward the archival agreement.
“She said your father had left instructions. She believed Salvatore had hidden them.”
Anthony returned.
“Legal confirmed something.”
Dominic looked at him.
“The trust agreement was originally eighteen pages.”
The box contained seventeen.
“Page fourteen-A is missing.”
Elena slowly stood.
“Your mother.”
Dominic nodded.
“She must have known.”
Anthony held up his phone.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Archive access logs.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“Someone entered the offsite records facility last night.”
“Who?”
“Credentials belong to Claire Whitman.”
Elena shook her head.
“She was already in the hospital.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic looked at the missing page.
Somebody was cleaning up.
Fast.
“Can we see security footage?”
“Already requested.”
Anthony’s phone buzzed.
He looked down.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
“The archive manager just called.”
“And?”
“He found something in a safe nobody has opened since Margaret Moretti died.”
Dominic’s pulse jumped.
“What?”
Anthony turned the phone so Dominic could see the photograph.
A sealed envelope.
Margaret’s handwriting.
DOMINIC — IF SALVATORE EVER TOUCHES ELENA ROSSI AGAIN, OPEN THIS.
Dominic stared at the image.
Then another message arrived.
Anthony read it.
His expression went still.
“What now?”
“The archive manager says somebody is already inside the building.”
Dominic reached for his coat.
Anthony grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
Anthony looked at the security feed on his phone.
The archive door had just opened from the inside.
A woman stepped out.
May you like
Claire Whitman.
The woman who was supposed to be unconscious in a hospital bed.
