Chapter 4 - The Woman I Was Supposed to Marry
Marco caught Caleb before he reached the hallway.
There was no dramatic fight.
No gunfire.
My brother knew better than to make three security men believe he was reaching for a weapon.
Marco simply grabbed his arm, turned him, and pushed him against the wall.
“Let go of me.”
“Stop moving.”
“Dante!”
I stared at him.
“Sit down.”
“You’re letting employees put their hands on me?”
“I’m letting a man I trust stop a man I don’t.”
The sentence landed harder than I expected.
Caleb heard it.
So did my father.
My brother stopped fighting.
Marco released him slowly.
Caleb adjusted his jacket.
Then sat.
I turned to Isabella.
“Start talking.”
Her face was wet now.
She looked younger without the confidence.
Smaller.
I felt nothing.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
“I knew Caleb was planning something,” she whispered.
“What?”
“A confrontation.”
“With bullets?”
“No.”
Caleb interrupted.
“Don’t say another word.”
Isabella laughed.
It sounded broken.
“You put my bracelet in your safe.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From him.”
She looked at me.
Then back at Caleb.
“You said the roadblock was only supposed to force Dante out of the car.”
“Stop.”
“You told me nobody would shoot unless his security fired first.”
“Isabella.”
“You lied.”
Caleb slammed his palm against the chair.
“I said stop.”
My father stood.
The entire room froze.
Anthony Moretti did not raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
“Caleb.”
My brother looked at him.
“If you speak to her like that again, I will forget you are my son.”
Caleb’s face changed.
I had never heard my father say anything like that to either of us.
Not even when we were boys.
Isabella wiped her face.
I looked at her.
“Why were you there?”
“I wanted to make sure nothing happened.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“You watched men shoot my vehicle.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You stayed.”
“I froze.”
“My driver died.”
Her eyes closed.
“I know.”
“You left him.”
“I was terrified.”
“You left me too.”
“I thought Caleb’s men would take care of you.”
I looked at my brother.
“Your men?”
He laughed bitterly.
“She’s trying to save herself.”
“Did you arrange the roadblock?”
“No.”
“Did you know about it?”
“No.”
“Was that your watch?”
“No.”
“Why is Isabella’s bracelet in your safe?”
“I don’t know.”
Four nos.
One lie would have been enough.
Four sounded insulting.
Detective Reed stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti, you need an attorney.”
Caleb smiled at her.
“I have twelve.”
“I recommend calling one.”
“I recommend getting a warrant.”
She held his gaze.
“I already did.”
That silenced him.
The hospital room became an interrogation room without anyone moving.
My father slowly sat.
He looked old for the first time in my life.
Not weak.
Just old.
“Why?” he asked Caleb.
Caleb looked at him.
“You believe this?”
“I asked why.”
“There is nothing to explain.”
“There is always something to explain.”
I watched them.
A father and his younger son.
For years I had assumed Caleb resented living in my shadow.
I had never understood how deep it went.
Maybe because I had never wanted his role.
I hadn’t chosen to be firstborn.
Hadn’t chosen the expectations.
Hadn’t chosen to inherit an organization built long before I understood what inheritance meant.
Caleb, meanwhile, wanted everything I wished I could put down.
Funny how families punish us with opposite desires.
Isabella stepped toward me.
“Dante, I swear I didn’t know they were going to kill you.”
“Who is they?”
She looked at Caleb.
“Answer me.”
“Caleb and someone else.”
My father went rigid.
“Who?”
“I never met him.”
“Name?”
“I only heard Caleb call him Rafe.”
Marco cursed.
I knew the name.
Rafael Costa.
Former logistics chief.
Dismissed eighteen months earlier after money disappeared from a freight route.
He had threatened me when I fired him.
Nothing unusual.
Men like Rafael threatened everyone.
“What did Caleb promise you?”
Isabella recoiled.
“Nothing.”
“That answer took too long.”
“Dante.”
“What did he promise you?”
Her eyes shifted.
I understood before she spoke.
“Me.”
She whispered, “A future.”
I almost laughed.
“With whom?”
She said nothing.
Caleb stared at the floor.
I looked between them.
Then everything rearranged itself.
The secret conversations.
Isabella defending Caleb in family disputes.
Caleb knowing details about our engagement plans I had never told him.
The times she claimed she was visiting her mother.
The nights he was mysteriously unavailable.
It was almost embarrassing how easy the truth became once I stopped refusing to see it.
“How long?”
Isabella began crying harder.
“Dante.”
“How long have you been sleeping with my brother?”
My father stood so fast his chair struck the wall.
Elena looked toward the floor.
Marco’s face went blank.
Isabella whispered, “Eight months.”
Our engagement was seven months old.
I felt something crack.
Not my heart.
That part surprised me.
My pride.
I had almost married a woman who had been betraying me before she accepted my ring.
“Why agree to marry me?”
Her answer was worse than silence.
I nodded slowly.
“The name.”
“No.”
“The position.”
“No.”
“The money?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
She looked at Caleb.
“Your father would never accept me with him.”
Anthony stared at her.
She continued.
“Caleb said if you were out of the way—”
“Stop talking,” Caleb snapped.
“No.”
For the first time, Isabella sounded angry.
“You told me he would step down.”
“I said stop.”
“You said nobody had to die.”
My father crossed the room.
Marco stepped between them instinctively.
Anthony waved him away.
He stopped directly in front of Caleb.
“You used her?”
Caleb’s eyes hardened.
“She used me too.”
“So it’s true.”
“No.”
“You slept with your brother’s fiancée.”
Caleb said nothing.
My father slapped him.
One clean strike.
The sound echoed.
Nobody moved.
Caleb touched his cheek.
“You hit me?”
Anthony’s voice was quiet.
“You should be grateful that is all I did.”
For once, I didn’t enjoy my brother being humbled.
I only felt tired.
Elena checked the monitor.
My pulse was climbing.
“Dante, this needs to stop.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“You need rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are absolutely not fine.”
It was the first time she had spoken to me without caution.
Marco almost smiled.
I didn’t.
But something inside me softened.
“I need five more minutes.”
“You need a doctor.”
“Five.”
She looked at the monitor.
“Three.”
My father actually laughed.
A tiny sound.
It vanished quickly.
Detective Reed’s phone buzzed.
She read a message.
“Warrant executed.”
Caleb’s face hardened.
“What did they find?”
“Several items.”
“Such as?”
“Ms. Ventura’s bracelet.”
We knew that.
She continued.
“A duplicate hospital access badge.”
Elena stared at her.
“My badge?”
“Possibly.”
“And?”
Reed looked at Caleb.
“A fingerprint mold.”
My father sat down again.
There it was.
His biometric access.
Framed.
Caleb shook his head.
“Planted.”
Reed continued.
“And a prepaid phone containing messages with Rafael Costa.”
Marco walked toward him.
Caleb raised both hands.
“Don’t.”
I asked, “What messages?”
Reed scrolled.
“Most are coded.”
“Any not coded?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“One was sent six days ago.”
“Read it.”
She hesitated.
“Detective.”
She read:
“Once D is gone, A signs control over before he understands what happened.”
I looked at my father.
D.
Me.
A.
Anthony.
Control.
This wasn’t just about my death.
It was about taking everything afterward.
My father understood the same thing.
“What exactly would I sign?” he asked.
Reed looked at Caleb.
“I suspect we’ll find out.”
Caleb said nothing.
Elena touched my arm.
“Three minutes.”
I almost smiled.
Then Detective Reed’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“When?”
Pause.
“Is he alive?”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?” I asked.
Reed lowered the phone.
“They found Rafael Costa.”
“Where?”
“Parking structure two blocks away.”
Caleb went pale.
“Alive?”
Reed looked at him.
“Yes.”
That reaction told me something.
“You expected him dead.”
“No.”
“You did.”
Reed continued listening to the caller.
Then she said, “Understood.”
She ended the call.
“Costa is wounded.”
“Can he talk?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He gave them a name.”
Nobody breathed.
“Whose?”
Reed looked at my father.
Then at Caleb.
But when she spoke, the name was neither of theirs.
“He said your mother ordered the first hit.”
May you like
My father’s face went white.
My mother had been dead for eleven years.
