Chapter 6 - Moretti’s First Move
The black SUVs reached the inner gate before Dominic’s security team locked it down.
The first vehicle stopped sharply, tires skidding on wet stone. The second angled behind it, blocking the drive. Men stepped out in dark coats, hands visible, expressions calm in the way hired men look calm when they want everyone to know panic is optional.
Dominic stood beneath the portico with Marco on his left and rain dripping from the edge of the roof.
A man emerged from the first SUV.
Vincent Moretti.
He was Dominic’s cousin by blood and his enemy by every meaningful measure. Where Dominic wore stillness like armor, Vincent wore charm like a knife. He smiled as if arriving for brunch.
“Cousin,” Vincent called. “You’re home early.”
Dominic said nothing.
Vincent glanced toward the windows. “Trouble with the staff?”
The words confirmed everything.
Dominic stepped into the rain.
“Turn around.”
Vincent laughed softly. “That’s no way to greet family.”
“You lost that word when you put a spy in my house.”
Vincent’s smile thinned.
Behind Dominic, curtains shifted in the west suite. He didn’t turn, but he knew Mia was watching until someone pulled her back.
Vincent followed his gaze.
“Ah,” he said. “The maid.”
Dominic’s hand closed at his side.
Vincent noticed and enjoyed it.
“You always had a weakness for broken things,” he said. “Your mother. Your brother. Now a housekeeper and her little girl.”
Marco moved half a step forward.
Dominic stopped him with one raised hand.
Vincent continued, voice light. “Gerald called me upset. Said you were tearing apart administrative files over some misunderstanding. I came to prevent embarrassment.”
“You came to burn evidence.”
“Evidence of what? A few deductions? Some inflated bills? Don’t pretend innocence, Dominic. Men like us are not wounded by accounting errors.”
Dominic walked closer until only the locked gate separated them.
“You don’t know what wounded me.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
For a moment, the old family resemblance showed — the same dark eyes, the same bones, the same inherited violence restrained by expensive fabric.
Then Vincent leaned in.
“You think this is about wages? Gerald gave me eyes inside your walls. Your schedules. Your weak points. And do you know what I learned?”
Dominic waited.
Vincent smiled again.
“You built a kingdom and forgot to live in it.”
The insult should not have landed.
It did.
Dominic’s jaw flexed once.
Vincent saw it and pressed harder.
“Your own people were starving under your chandeliers. Sick under your roof. Afraid of your name. And you never noticed until a child cried loud enough.”
Dominic looked at him for a long time.
Then he said, “You’re right.”
Vincent blinked.
Dominic’s voice stayed calm. “I failed them first. That is why you will not get the chance to fail them again.”
At that moment, sirens sounded beyond the lower road.
Vincent’s expression changed.
Dominic almost smiled.
“Federal investigators,” Dominic said. “Outside counsel. Financial crimes. Labor violations. Extortion. Forgery. Conspiracy. You know, Vincent — accounting errors.”
Vincent stepped back from the gate.
“You called law enforcement?”
“I called witnesses.”
“You really want your family name dragged into court?”
Dominic looked toward the mansion.
For years, the Castellano name had been a wall. A warning. A shadow.
Mia had hidden behind a laundry sink because of that name.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
Vincent’s mask cracked into anger.
“You think daylight saves people like you?”
“No,” Dominic replied. “But it burns people like Gerald.”
The sirens grew louder.
Vincent made a quick gesture. His men returned to the SUVs.
Before getting in, he called back, “This isn’t over.”
Dominic’s answer was quiet.
“It never is with cowards.”
The SUVs reversed down the drive just as the first government vehicles reached the lower gate.
Inside the mansion, Sofia struggled to sit up despite Dr. Vale’s protests. Mia pressed herself against her mother’s side.
“Is he bad?” Mia asked.
Sofia smoothed her hair. “Yes, baby.”
“Worse than Mr. Whitfield?”
Sofia looked toward the window where Dominic stood in the rain, facing men who wanted to destroy him because he had finally chosen to see.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Mia considered this.
“Mr. Castellano looks like he can fight monsters.”
Sofia’s eyes filled.
“Yes,” she said. “But sometimes monsters live in houses before anyone knows they’re monsters.”
Downstairs, Gerald Whitfield was placed in a locked sitting room under guard.
When he heard federal agents had arrived, he asked for Dominic.
Dominic went.
Gerald looked smaller now. Less polished. Sweat marked his collar.
“I can testify,” Gerald said quickly. “Against Moretti.”
Dominic stood by the door.
“You will.”
Gerald swallowed. “Then we can discuss terms.”
“No.”
Fear returned to Gerald’s eyes.
Dominic stepped closer.
“You don’t get terms from me. You get a chair, a lawyer, and the truth.”
Gerald’s mouth trembled.
“She was just a maid,” he whispered.
May you like
Dominic leaned down until Gerald could not look anywhere else.
“No,” he said. “She was the first person in this house brave enough to ask where the money went.”
