Chapter 4 - The HousecleaningBy two o'clock that afternoon, the Moretti estate had transformed into a command center of swift, terrifying retribution.
Two black sedans carrying Julian’s senior legal team and forensic accountants arrived from Manhattan. Within three hours of digging through Mrs. Gable’s computer files and the estate’s ledger books, the truth was laid bare.
Mrs. Gable had not merely neglected Giovanni; she had been systematically embezzling from the family for over four years.
She had fired the private nursing team six months after Giovanni’s stroke, pocketing the forty thousand dollars a month allocated for their salaries. She had falsified medical reports, paid off a corrupt local physician to sign blank health evaluations, and funneled over two million dollars into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
In the grand library on the first floor, Julian sat behind a massive mahogany desk, sipping espresso.
Mrs. Gable stood before the desk, flanked by two armed security guards. Her face was gray, her immaculate uniform crumpled, her posture utterly destroyed. She was sobbing hysterically.
"Julian... please," Gable wept, clutching her hands together in a desperate plea. "I served your family for twenty years! I made a mistake... the money... I can give it back! I’ll return every penny!"
Julian set his porcelain espresso cup down on a saucer with a tiny, sharp clink. He didn't look angry. That was what terrified Gable most. He looked utterly bored.
"You didn't just steal money, Evelyn," Julian said softly, leaning back in his leather chair. "Money is paper. I make paper every hour of the day. You left my father—the man who built the foundation you stood on—in a freezing room to rot. You let him starve while you bought villas in Florida."
"I thought... I thought he didn't know!" Gable wailed. "The doctors said his brain was gone! He couldn't speak! He couldn't move!"
"He knew," a deep voice said from the doorway.
Gable turned her head slowly.
Giovanni Moretti was sitting in his wheelchair near the entrance of the library. But he was no longer the broken old man she had dragged through the halls. He was wearing a dark, custom-tailored wool suit. His hair was meticulously groomed, his jaw clean-shaven.
Beside him stood Nora, wearing a soft, elegant cream-colored cashmere sweater and black trousers—clothing that Julian’s personal stylist had delivered to the estate just an hour prior.
Giovanni looked at Gable. The cold, legendary authority of the Iron Falcon radiated from his posture. He raised his left hand, holding a small brass key—the key to the estate’s private vaults that Gable had stolen from his desk three years ago.
"You..." Giovanni rasped, his voice stronger than it had been that morning. "...are... done."
Julian looked up at his chief security officer. "Marco. Take Mrs. Gable to the local precinct. Deliver the evidence file to the District Attorney. Ensure she is charged with grand larceny, elder abuse, and corporate fraud. Make sure her bail is set at five million dollars."
"No! Please! Julian!" Gable screamed as the two heavy guards seized her arms and hauled her backward out of the library, her high heels dragging against the Persian rugs until the heavy double doors slammed shut.
The library returned to silence.
Julian stood up from his desk, walked around the mahogany frame, and stopped in front of Nora.
"Miss Bennett," Julian said, pulling a leather document folder from his jacket pocket. "Our legal team took the liberty of looking into your ex-boyfriend, Mr. Brody Hale."
Nora gasped softly, her hand instantly darting to her stomach. "Brody? Did... did you find him?"
"We did," Julian replied, opening the folder. "He was living in a luxury rental in Miami, using the nine thousand dollars he took in your name to finance a small sports betting operation. As of one hour ago, our attorneys have frozen all accounts associated with his social security number."
Nora’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You froze his accounts?"
"Not only that," Julian smiled—a rare, razor-sharp smile that showed brilliant white teeth. "He has been served with a formal civil suit for identity theft, fraud, and back child-support calculations based on New York State guidelines. The local authorities in Miami are currently taking him into custody."
Nora covered her mouth with both hands, tears springing to her eyes. For six agonizing months, Brody’s ghost had hung over her life like an insurmountable mountain of debt and shame. She had spent sleepless nights imagining collection agents taking her baby’s crib away, imagining court summonses, imagining prison.
And in less than four hours, Julian Moretti had pulverized Brody Hale’s life with a single phone call.
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"I... I don't know what to say," Nora whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I can't pay you back for this, Mr. Moretti."
"You already paid us back, Nora," Julian said, his voice dropping into a sincere, warm tone. He looked at his father, who was watching Nora with deep, paternal pride. "You gave my father his voice back. There isn't enough money in New York to pay for that."
