Chapter 13 - The Shadow at the GatePeace in the Moretti empire, however, was never absolute—it was simply well-defended.
Three days after Sterling’s confession, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the outer security checkpoint of the estate, pausing at the heavy iron gates.
Inside the main security monitoring room on the ground floor of the mansion, Dante watched the live camera feed on a dozen high-definition monitors. His eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on the car.
“Boss,” Dante said into his comms link, his voice laced with suspicion. “We have an unannounced visitor at the north gate. It’s a civilian vehicle, registered under a dummy corporation in downtown Dallas.”
From his private study upstairs, Alejandro’s voice came back instantly, cold and sharp. “Who is inside?”
“Running facial recognition now... Hold on.” Dante tapped a few keys on his console. The computer screen flashed, pulling up a digital dossier. Dante’s breath hitched slightly. “Sir... it’s Richard Vance. The senior partner from the divorce law firm that represented your wife, Vanessa, during the settlement.”
A heavy silence hung over the comms line for two seconds.
“Let him through,” Alejandro commanded quietly. “Bring him directly to the conservatory. I want to see what kind of ghost has crawled out of the past.”
Ten minutes later, Richard Vance—dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit that looked entirely too slick for the Texas afternoon—was escorted across the marble floors of the conservatory by two silent, towering enforcers.
Alejandro was waiting for him beside a towering potted palm tree, holding a cup of black coffee. He didn't offer the lawyer a seat. He didn't even offer a greeting.
“Mr. Moretti,” Vance said smoothly, though his professional poise seemed distinctly strained under Alejandro’s piercing gaze. “I’m surprised you agreed to see me.”
“You have three minutes before my men carry you back to your car, Richard,” Alejandro said, his voice level and chillingly polite. “Make it count.”
Vance swallowed hard, stepping closer. “It’s about Vanessa. As you know, after the... unfortunate collapse of her social circle last year, she relocated to her family in Houston. But recent financial developments regarding the remaining shared property assets require your direct signature on—investment liquidation papers.”
Alejandro took a slow sip of his coffee. He didn't blink. He didn't look at the briefcase Vance nervously held out.
“Tell me, Richard,” Alejandro interrupted softly, his eyes locking onto the lawyer like a hawk tracking a field mouse. “When Vanessa tried to frame a nine-year-old child to cover up her own petty vanity at that disastrous birthday party... did you bill her hourly for fabricating that excuse, or was that included in your standard retainer?”
Vance’s face turned the color of wet chalk. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
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“Take your papers, walk out those front doors, and tell Vanessa that if her name ever crosses the perimeter of my estate again, I won't just liquidate our shared assets—I’ll liquidate her entire family’s business portfolio before dinner,” Alejandro said, his voice dropping into an absolute, razor-sharp whisper.
Vance didn't argue. He turned on his heel, tucked his briefcase under his arm, and practically sprinted toward the exit.
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