Chapter 8 - The People Who Kept Them Alive
The first name on Dominic’s list was dead by sunrise.
Not murdered.
Heart attack.
Natural causes.
But the timing was enough to terrify Evelyn.
The second name belonged to a retired nurse in Connecticut.
Marjorie Bell.
The woman who had removed Evelyn and newborn Noah from the hospital.
Federal agents reached her before Salvatore.
She agreed to talk.
Evelyn sat across from Marjorie in a guarded apartment.
The nurse was seventy-two now.
Gray hair.
Kind eyes.
She recognized Evelyn immediately.
“My goodness.”
Evelyn hugged her before thinking.
Marjorie held her.
“You made it.”
“So did you.”
Marjorie looked toward Noah.
“He got big.”
Noah whispered to Vincent, “Everybody says that.”
Vincent smiled.
Marjorie’s expression changed when she saw him.
“You’re Vincent.”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“Dominic worried about this day.”
“So I keep hearing.”
Marjorie sat.
“Your grandfather wasn’t innocent.”
“I know.”
“But he loved you.”
Vincent said nothing.
“He loved that boy before he ever met him.”
Evelyn looked surprised.
Marjorie continued.
“Dominic arranged everything within hours.”
“How?” Vincent asked.
“He already knew something might happen.”
Evelyn stared.
“Before I went into labor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marjorie looked at Vincent.
“Because Salvatore had been asking questions about inheritance.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“What inheritance?”
“Dominic’s legitimate assets.”
That changed everything.
The Moretti family thought the fight was about criminal power.
But Dominic’s legitimate holdings—real estate, shipping, hotels, investment funds—were worth hundreds of millions.
“Dominic changed his will,” Marjorie said.
“When?”
“Before Noah’s birth.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent did.
Or thought he did.
If Dominic left controlling interests to Vincent’s children, Noah’s existence could have displaced Salvatore’s branch.
Evelyn looked sick.
“They tried to kill my baby because of money.”
Marjorie reached for her hand.
“Because of fear.”
“That isn’t better.”
“No.”
Vincent stood.
“We need the will.”
Samuel was already searching.
By afternoon, he found it.
Dominic had filed a sealed trust.
Beneficiary:
Any lawful biological descendant of Vincent Antonio Moretti.
Noah.
Vincent read the amount twice.
$612 million in legitimate assets.
Evelyn pushed the paper away.
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s Noah’s.”
“I don’t want him growing up inside this.”
“Neither do I.”
She looked at Vincent.
“Then refuse it.”
“I can’t refuse something that belongs to him.”
“Money like this changes people.”
“So does poverty.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“I know.”
Vincent sat across from her.
“We put it in trust. Education. Charities. Whatever keeps it from owning him.”
Evelyn studied him.
“You’d really do that?”
“I don’t want him becoming me.”
Noah, playing nearby, looked up.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Vincent blinked.
Evelyn covered a smile.
“Nothing,” Noah decided. “You’re kind of scary, though.”
Vincent nodded.
“Fair.”
For a moment, the room felt normal.
Then Samuel’s phone rang.
His wife.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at Vincent.
“The city house.”
“What?”
“Someone broke in.”
“Anything taken?”
Samuel’s wife spoke urgently.
Samuel closed his eyes.
“My files.”
Dominic’s estate documents.
Salvatore was destroying legal evidence.
Vincent called the federal agent.
By evening, emergency motions froze Dominic’s major assets.
Salvatore could not access them.
That made him more dangerous.
Evelyn stood at the hospital window.
Vincent joined her.
His shoulder was bandaged.
“You should be in bed.”
“I hate hospitals.”
“So do I.”
Their eyes met.
Of course she did.
“This is where everything started,” she whispered.
Vincent leaned against the wall.
“I keep thinking about the night you were here alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“You were.”
She looked at him.
“You didn’t choose Chicago.”
“No.”
“I know that now.”
“That doesn’t give me those hours back.”
“No.”
They stood quietly.
“Why didn’t you ever marry?” Evelyn asked.
Vincent looked surprised.
“Who says I didn’t?”
Her face changed.
He almost smiled.
“I didn’t.”
She hit his uninjured arm lightly.
“That was cruel.”
“You asked.”
“So?”
“I tried.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Once?”
“Twice.”
“What happened?”
“I compared them to you.”
Evelyn looked away.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Make seven years sound romantic.”
He absorbed that.
She continued.
“They weren’t romantic. They were hard. I worked two jobs at first. Noah had pneumonia when he was two. I sat alone beside his hospital bed for three nights. When he started school, I filled out the father section with a fake name because I didn’t know what else to do.”
Vincent’s eyes lowered.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re right.”
She looked at him.
“I don’t want us falling in love with the tragedy.”
He nodded.
“Then we don’t.”
“What do we do?”
“Meet each other again.”
Something softened in her expression.
Before she could answer, Noah ran into the room.
“Dad—”
He stopped.
His eyes widened as if he had accidentally said something forbidden.
Vincent stared at him.
Noah looked at Evelyn.
“Can I call him that?”
Evelyn’s face crumpled.
Vincent crouched.
“Only if you want to.”
Noah considered.
“Okay.”
Then he hugged him.
Vincent held his son carefully with one arm.
Evelyn watched.
She had spent seven years believing keeping Noah away from Vincent was the only way to keep him safe.
Now she saw a different truth.
The danger had not been Vincent.
The danger had been everything surrounding him.
And Vincent was beginning to destroy that world piece by piece.
But Salvatore was not finished.
That night, a package arrived at the federal building.
Inside was one object.
A burned photograph.
Evelyn holding newborn Noah.
On the back, someone had written:
Dominic lied to both of you. Ask him who ordered Chicago.
Vincent stared at the message.
Dominic was dead.
But Samuel was not.
May you like
And suddenly Vincent wondered whether the grandfather who saved Evelyn had first helped create the danger she needed saving from.
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