Chapter 3 - The Price of a Living Son
# Chapter 3 - The Price of a Living Son
Richard Moretti had just admitted to keeping a six-year-old boy hidden from his parents.
And he sounded as though he were discussing a business appointment.
Dominic stood in the underground parking garage of Bellamy House, his phone pressed against his ear, while Elena clung to his arm.
"Say that again," Dominic said.
Richard sighed.
"Don't make this difficult."
"Where is my son?"
"Safe."
"Where?"
"Dominic, you're allowing your emotions to interfere with your judgment."
Dominic's fingers tightened around the phone.
"Six years, Richard. You've had my son for six years."
"Lower your voice."
"Tell me where Gabriel is."
A pause followed.
Then Richard spoke with the same measured calm he used during board meetings.
"Your father would be disappointed in the way you're handling this."
Something inside Dominic went dangerously still.
"Don't mention my father."
"Vittorio understood that certain sacrifices were necessary to preserve this family."
"Was stealing my child one of those sacrifices?"
Richard didn't answer immediately.
In the silence, Dominic heard the faint clink of glass.
His uncle was drinking.
Probably sitting in his private study, surrounded by expensive paintings and books he had never read.
Comfortable.
Untroubled.
While Elena had spent six years mourning a son who was apparently alive.
"Bring Elena to my house," Richard finally said. "We can discuss Gabriel's future like civilized people."
"You're going to give me his location."
"No."
Dominic glanced at Marco.
His security chief immediately understood the silent instruction and stepped aside to contact his team.
"Then we're finished talking," Dominic said.
"Are we?"
Richard's tone changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
"Gabriel has a medical condition, Dominic."
Elena stiffened.
Dominic felt his stomach tighten.
"What condition?"
"One that requires specialized care."
"What's wrong with him?"
"He was born dangerously premature. His first months were complicated."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"His condition is manageable under the right circumstances."
Dominic looked at Elena.
Her expression was filled with dread.
"What condition?" he repeated.
Richard exhaled.
"Bring Elena. I'll explain everything."
The call ended.
For several seconds, Dominic remained motionless.
Then Elena whispered, "What did he say?"
Dominic lowered the phone.
"He claims Gabriel is sick."
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"No."
"Elena—"
"No. He can't do this."
She backed away.
"First they told me he died. Now they're telling me he's alive, but he's sick?"
Dominic stepped toward her.
"Listen to me."
"How do we even know he's alive?"
"We don't. Not yet."
She stared at him.
The words were cruel.
But necessary.
Someone had sent them a document.
Richard had claimed Gabriel was alive.
Neither proved the boy's existence beyond doubt.
And Dominic understood something else.
Richard had spent years manipulating people with partial truths.
There was no reason to believe he had stopped.
"We're going to find him," Dominic said.
Elena shook her head.
"You don't understand. If he's alive, he's spent his whole life thinking someone else is his mother."
Her voice broke.
"He might not even know my name."
Dominic reached for her.
This time, she didn't move away.
He held her while she cried against his chest.
Through the fabric of his jacket, he could feel her trembling.
Six years ago, he would have promised that he could fix everything.
Tonight, he knew better.
All he could say was, "I'm here."
And for the first time in six years, Elena allowed herself to believe him.
Only for a moment.
Inside the black SUV, Luca watched his mother through the tinted window.
"She's crying again," he said.
Leo looked up from his seat.
"Maybe she doesn't like the restaurant."
"Everybody likes that restaurant," Matteo replied sleepily. "They have marshmallows."
Nico leaned forward.
"Do you think that man is really our dad?"
Luca nodded.
"He said he was."
"People can lie," Nico observed.
Luca considered this.
"Mom doesn't lie."
"Mom said broccoli makes you taller."
"It does."
"Then why is Matteo still short?"
"Because I'm younger!" Matteo protested.
Leo giggled.
But Luca wasn't laughing.
He was watching Dominic.
The tall man had one hand resting against their mother's back.
And although she was crying, she wasn't pulling away.
Luca had seen his mother frightened before.
When a strange car stayed parked outside their apartment.
When someone rang the doorbell late at night.
When she received envelopes without return addresses.
But he had never seen anyone stand beside her the way this man did.
As though nothing in the world could make him leave.
Luca wanted to believe that.
He wanted to believe it very badly.
At 8:26 p.m., Marco returned to the SUV with troubling information.
"The document came through an encrypted forwarding service," he told Dominic. "We're working on the sender."
"Richard?"
"Possibly. But there's something unusual."
"What?"
"The hospital named on the transfer document closed four years ago."
Elena looked up.
"Closed?"
"Financial problems, according to public records. Its parent company sold the property."
Dominic frowned.
"Who bought it?"
Marco hesitated.
"Moretti Holdings."
Dominic stared.
"Under whose authorization?"
"Richard's."
The answer wasn't surprising.
That made it worse.
Dominic had trusted Richard to oversee numerous subsidiaries while he concentrated on expanding the family's construction and property businesses.
Richard controlled the older, less glamorous holdings.
Medical properties.
Private care facilities.
Specialized investment trusts.
Businesses Dominic rarely examined personally.
Until tonight, he had considered them harmless.
"Get me everything," Dominic said. "Ownership records, licensing files, staff lists, transfer agreements."
"Already started."
"Anything connected to Gabriel's name."
"Understood."
Marco lowered his voice.
"Boss, there's another issue."
Dominic glanced at Elena.
"Say it."
"Your uncle has ordered the family security team to locate you."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"On whose authority?"
"His own."
"He doesn't control my security."
"He told them you were having some kind of personal crisis."
Dominic gave a humorless laugh.
"Of course he did."
"There's more. He told them Miss Rossi might be attempting to extort you."
Elena went pale.
Dominic's face became expressionless.
That was the look Marco knew best.
The look that usually preceded decisions nobody could reverse.
"Tell every member of my personal team that Richard Moretti has no authority over my movements, communications, or guests."
"Yes, boss."
"And if anyone reports Elena's location to him, they're finished."
Marco nodded.
Dominic opened the SUV door.
"Elena, we're leaving."
"Where?"
"Somewhere Richard can't reach us easily."
"Does a place like that exist?"
Dominic looked at her.
"I intend to find out."
Forty minutes later, they arrived at a secluded waterfront property north of Boston.
The house was constructed from pale stone and dark timber, with enormous windows facing the Atlantic.
Elena recognized it immediately.
"Seabrook."
Dominic nodded.
"You remember."
Of course she remembered.
Six years earlier, Dominic had brought her here during a winter storm.
They had spent three days trapped inside while snow buried the driveway.
No business meetings.
No family obligations.
No guards following them through crowded restaurants.
Just the two of them.
On the last night, Dominic had asked whether she could imagine living somewhere like this.
Elena had laughed.
"Only if you promise to stop working every Sunday."
He had promised.
She had believed him.
Now she stood in the same driveway with four sleeping boys and a past neither of them could repair.
"I thought you sold it," she said.
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
Dominic looked at the house.
Then at her.
"You know why."
Elena turned away before he could see her expression.
By 9:30 p.m., the boys had been settled into two guest bedrooms.
Luca and Leo shared one.
Nico and Matteo took the other.
Marco placed security personnel around the property, but Dominic insisted that the guards remain discreet.
He didn't want his sons waking to find armed strangers standing outside their doors.
Elena tucked Matteo beneath a blanket.
He opened one eye.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Is the tall man staying?"
She brushed his hair aside.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Why?"
Matteo yawned.
"He looks like someone who can fight monsters."
Elena's heart tightened.
She kissed his forehead.
"Go to sleep, baby."
When she entered the hallway, Dominic was waiting beside the staircase.
"Are they okay?"
"They're exhausted."
He nodded.
Then he glanced toward the bedroom doors.
"Can I ask you something?"
Elena crossed her arms.
"You've asked about a thousand questions tonight."
"One more."
She waited.
"Do they have nightmares?"
The question surprised her.
"Sometimes."
"About what?"
"Ordinary things. Storms. Shadows. Scary movies."
Dominic nodded slowly.
"When Luca was four, he had nightmares about someone taking him away," Elena added.
Dominic's expression changed.
"Why?"
"I don't know. He said he dreamed about a man standing outside his window."
A cold sensation moved through Dominic.
"Did he describe the man?"
Elena hesitated.
"A gray coat."
Dominic stopped breathing for a moment.
"Elena."
"I thought it was a dream."
"Did you ever see someone?"
"Once."
"When?"
"About two years ago. There was a man across the street from our apartment. He was watching the building."
"What did you do?"
"I called the police. He disappeared before they arrived."
Dominic looked toward the dark windows.
Peter Voss.
A gray coat.
A missing hospital record.
Someone had been watching his children for years.
And someone had been close enough to frighten Luca.
At 10:04 p.m., Dominic entered the study.
The room smelled faintly of cedar and old leather.
He hadn't spent a night in Seabrook for almost a year.
But the house remained exactly as Elena remembered.
Even the framed photograph of the Atlantic coastline still stood beside the fireplace.
Dominic sat behind the desk and called a private investigator named Adrian Cole.
Adrian had previously worked for federal law enforcement before leaving to establish a discreet investigative agency.
He was one of the few men Dominic trusted outside the Moretti organization.
"Dominic?"
"I need a hospital investigated."
"Tonight?"
"Immediately."
Adrian heard something in his voice.
"What happened?"
Dominic told him about the five babies.
The false death.
The transfer document.
Richard.
Adrian listened without interrupting.
When Dominic finished, there was a long silence.
"Do you have the original file?"
"Only a scan."
"Send it."
Dominic forwarded the document.
A few moments later, Adrian spoke.
"This is interesting."
"What?"
"The authorization code."
"What's wrong with it?"
"It isn't a standard hospital transfer code."
"Then what is it?"
"Looks like an internal reference used by a private medical trust."
"Can you identify the trust?"
"Possibly. Give me a moment."
Dominic heard typing.
Then Adrian stopped.
"Dominic."
"What?"
"Have you ever heard of the Bellwether Foundation?"
"No."
"You should have."
"Why?"
"Because your family has been financing it for almost twenty years."
Dominic leaned back.
"Through which company?"
"Moretti Medical Investments."
Richard's division.
Of course.
"What does Bellwether do?"
"Officially? Supports research into rare pediatric conditions and provides long-term medical assistance to vulnerable children."
"And unofficially?"
"I'm still looking."
Dominic waited.
Adrian continued.
"There's something else. One of the foundation's former directors filed a lawsuit seven years ago."
"Against whom?"
"Richard Moretti."
"For what?"
"Wrongful termination, financial misconduct, and falsification of patient records."
Dominic sat forward.
"What happened?"
"The case disappeared."
"Settled?"
"No public settlement. The plaintiff withdrew the complaint."
"Who was the plaintiff?"
Adrian paused.
"Dr. Evelyn Hart."
Dominic repeated the name.
It meant nothing to him.
But from the doorway came the sound of a glass shattering.
He turned.
Elena stood there, staring at him.
Water spread across the wooden floor around her feet.
"Elena?"
Her face was white.
"Did you say Evelyn Hart?"
Dominic lowered the phone.
"You know her?"
Elena nodded.
"She was my obstetrician."
Elena sat on the leather sofa, her hands clasped tightly together.
Dominic remained standing.
Adrian was still on speakerphone.
"Tell me everything you remember," Dominic said.
Elena drew a shaky breath.
"Dr. Hart supervised my pregnancy after I left Boston. She was kind to me. She knew I was alone."
"Did she deliver the babies?"
"No. I went into labor unexpectedly, and the hospital transferred me for emergency surgery. But she visited me afterward."
"When?"
"The day after the delivery."
Dominic frowned.
"After Gabriel supposedly died?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Elena stared at her hands.
"She told me there had been complications. She said the surviving babies were fortunate."
"Did she mention Gabriel?"
"Not by name."
Dominic exchanged a glance with the phone.
Adrian spoke.
"Miss Rossi, did Dr. Hart ever contact you after you were discharged?"
Elena nodded.
"Once."
"What did she want?"
"She asked whether I'd received copies of the birth records."
"And had you?"
"Only four."
Adrian said nothing.
Elena continued.
"When I told her, she went quiet. Then she said she'd look into it."
"What happened?"
"Two days later, the hospital told me she'd resigned."
Dominic felt the pieces shifting again.
"Did she ever call back?"
"No."
Adrian's voice became thoughtful.
"According to what I'm finding, Dr. Hart didn't simply resign. She lost her medical privileges after a disciplinary complaint."
"For what?" Dominic asked.
"Improper handling of confidential records."
Elena looked up sharply.
"That doesn't make sense."
"Why?"
"She was meticulous. She wouldn't even discuss another patient's condition with me."
Adrian continued typing.
"Interesting. The original complaint was filed by the hospital's administrator."
Dominic already suspected the answer.
"Who appointed the administrator?"
"Bellwether."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Richard had connections to everything.
The hospital.
The private trust.
The missing medical records.
Even the doctor who had tried to investigate Gabriel's disappearance.
"Where is Dr. Hart now?" Dominic asked.
Adrian hesitated.
"That's the problem."
"What problem?"
"She vanished from public records about eighteen months ago."
At 11:17 p.m., Elena stood beside the window overlooking the ocean.
The darkness beyond the glass was immense.
She could hear the waves breaking against the rocky shoreline.
Dominic approached quietly.
"Adrian will keep looking."
She nodded.
"Do you think Gabriel is really alive?"
Dominic stood beside her.
"I think Richard wants us to believe he is."
"That's not what I asked."
He looked down.
"No. It isn't."
Elena turned toward him.
"Please don't lie to me."
The plea cut deeper than she probably intended.
Dominic met her eyes.
"I believe there's a real child behind those records. But I don't know whether he's Gabriel, or why Richard would keep him hidden."
Elena swallowed.
"What if he's been waiting for us?"
Dominic couldn't answer.
"What if he thinks I abandoned him?"
"Elena—"
"What if he's sick and frightened and nobody ever holds him when he cries?"
Her voice fractured.
Dominic reached for her hands.
For once, she didn't resist.
"If he's alive, we'll find him."
"And if Richard won't let us?"
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Then Richard will learn that whatever power he thinks he has over me no longer matters."
She stared at him.
"That's exactly what frightens me."
"What?"
"That you'll become like your father to protect your children."
The words struck him harder than an accusation.
Because he understood them.
He knew what his father had been willing to do in the name of family.
He knew how easily protection could become possession.
And how quickly love could be used to justify cruelty.
Dominic looked toward the bedrooms upstairs.
"Then you'll have to remind me who I am."
Elena's eyes filled.
"I don't know who you are anymore."
He nodded slowly.
"Neither do I."
For a brief moment, they stood close enough to remember the people they had once been.
Then Dominic stepped away.
Because whatever remained between them would have to wait.
They had a missing son to find.
At 11:46 p.m., Dominic's phone vibrated.
Adrian Cole.
He answered immediately.
"Tell me."
"I found the private medical residence."
Dominic stood.
"Where?"
"About forty miles west of Boston. The address on the transfer document matches a property owned through three holding companies."
"Is it operational?"
"According to licensing records, yes."
"How many patients?"
"Registered capacity is twelve."
"Can you confirm Gabriel is there?"
"No."
Dominic gripped the phone.
"Then what have you confirmed?"
Adrian hesitated.
"Something you need to see."
A photograph appeared on Dominic's screen.
It showed a large brick estate surrounded by iron fencing.
The windows were illuminated.
A security gate stood at the end of a winding driveway.
Beneath the photograph was a date.
October 7.
Three days earlier.
"Look at the second image," Adrian said.
Dominic swiped.
A nurse stood beside a young boy in a wheelchair.
The boy wore a gray sweatshirt.
His dark hair was neatly combed.
His face was partially turned toward the camera.
Dominic stared.
The eyebrows.
The eyes.
The mouth.
The same face he had seen four times that evening.
Except this boy looked thinner.
Paler.
And there was a small scar running from his left eyebrow toward his temple.
Dominic's knees almost gave way.
"Gabriel."
Elena rushed to his side.
"What?"
He handed her the phone.
She looked at the image.
Her hands began shaking.
Then she made a sound Dominic would never forget.
Not quite a sob.
Not quite a scream.
A mother recognizing the face of a child she had been told was dead.
"That's him."
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Dominic, that's my baby."
He held her while she stared at the photograph.
For six years, Elena had imagined Gabriel as a newborn.
Tiny.
Fragile.
Forever wrapped in a hospital blanket.
But the child in the photograph was six years old.
He had grown.
He had learned to sit.
To smile.
Perhaps to speak.
He had lived an entire childhood without them.
"Adrian," Dominic said, his voice unsteady. "When was this taken?"
"Three days ago."
"By whom?"
"A contractor documenting repairs to the property. The image was accidentally included in a public maintenance report."
Dominic looked again.
Gabriel was staring toward something outside the frame.
His expression was serious.
Almost frightened.
"Can you get us inside?"
Adrian hesitated.
"Dominic, there's something else."
"What?"
"I managed to identify the physician currently listed as the boy's attending specialist."
"Who?"
"Dr. Samuel Whitmore."
Dominic waited.
The name was unfamiliar.
Adrian continued.
"Whitmore is a pediatric neurologist with a complicated professional history. But that's not the disturbing part."
"Then what is?"
"The child has been registered under three different names."
Dominic's grip tightened.
"Tell me."
"His first name was Gabriel Rossi."
Elena covered her mouth.
"His second was Daniel Hart."
Dominic frowned.
"Hart? As in Evelyn Hart?"
"Exactly."
"And the third?"
Adrian went silent.
"Adrian."
"The most recent records list him as Gabriel Barrett."
Dominic stared at the screen.
Barrett.
Sloane Barrett.
The woman he had been supposed to propose to tonight.
The family his uncle had spent two years insisting he marry into.
"What the hell does Sloane have to do with my son?"
"I don't know."
Dominic's thoughts raced.
He remembered Sloane speaking about her family's charitable medical investments.
He remembered her mentioning a private foundation that helped children with complex neurological conditions.
He remembered her taking occasional trips west of Boston, always explaining that she was visiting a family-owned research property.
At the time, he had thought nothing of it.
Now every detail felt different.
"Adrian, send me everything on Sloane Barrett's connection to that facility."
"Already working on it."
Dominic ended the call.
Elena was still staring at Gabriel's photograph.
"Why would they give him her name?" she whispered.
Dominic had no answer.
But he knew someone who might.
He opened his messages and found Sloane's number.
Before he could type, a new message arrived from her.
Dominic, I know you're with Elena Rossi.
He stared.
A second message appeared.
Richard told me what happened tonight. Please don't believe everything he's saying.
Then a third.
There's something about Gabriel you need to know.
Dominic's pulse quickened.
He typed immediately.
What do you know about my son?
The response came within seconds.
More than Richard realizes.
Another message followed.
Meet me tomorrow morning. Alone. Do not tell your uncle.
Dominic studied the screen.
He had spent years believing Sloane was predictable.
Elegant.
Ambitious.
Politically careful.
A woman whose every decision served a clearly defined purpose.
But now she was contacting him about a child she had never mentioned.
He typed:
Why is Gabriel registered under your family name?
For nearly a minute, nothing happened.
Then his phone rang.
Sloane.
Dominic answered.
"Explain."
Her voice was different from anything he had heard before.
No polished confidence.
No practiced charm.
Only fear.
"Dominic, listen carefully. I'm not calling to save our engagement."
"Then why are you calling?"
"Because your uncle has been lying to both of us."
"About Gabriel?"
"About everything."
Dominic glanced at Elena.
"Start talking."
Sloane inhaled shakily.
"Gabriel was never supposed to survive long enough for you to find him."
Dominic went cold.
"What does that mean?"
"Richard has been waiting for something. Something connected to the Moretti family trust."
"What?"
"I found documents in my father's office. Gabriel isn't just your son, Dominic. He's named in an agreement signed before he was born."
Dominic felt the room closing around him.
"What agreement?"
Sloane began to answer.
Then a man's voice sounded faintly in the background.
"Sloane? Who are you talking to?"
She stopped.
Dominic recognized that voice.
Richard.
"Sloane," Dominic said sharply.
Her breathing quickened.
"Dominic, he knows."
"Where are you?"
"At the conservatory. I was trying to leave."
A door slammed.
Sloane gasped.
Richard's voice came through the phone.
"Give me that."
There was a struggle.
Dominic heard glass breaking.
Then Sloane shouted something.
"Check the original will!"
The connection cut out.
Dominic stared at the silent screen.
Elena gripped his arm.
"What happened?"
Before he could answer, another notification appeared.
An attachment had arrived from Sloane's number.
A photographed page from a legal document.
At the top were the words:
THE VITTORIO MORETTI IRREVOCABLE FAMILY TRUST
Below them, a clause had been highlighted in yellow.
Dominic read it once.
Then again.
His grandfather's estate plan had always divided control among adult family members.
Or so Dominic had believed.
But this document contained a previously undisclosed condition.
Control of a substantial portion of the family's assets would pass to a designated descendant upon that child's seventh birthday.
The beneficiary's identity had been concealed under a sealed addendum.
And beneath the highlighted clause was a handwritten note:
The fifth child is the key. Without him, the transfer cannot be completed.
Dominic looked at the calendar on his phone.
October 10.
The boys' birthday was four days away.
Gabriel would turn seven on October 14.
Four days.
Richard had spent six years hiding the child.
Sloane had somehow learned about him.
And now the Moretti fortune appeared to depend on Gabriel remaining under someone else's control until his seventh birthday.
Dominic felt the final trace of hesitation leave him.
"We're not waiting until morning."
Elena looked up.
"What are you going to do?"
He reached for his jacket.
"Bring our son home."
Before he reached the door, Marco appeared in the hallway.
His face was grim.
"Boss, there's a vehicle approaching the property."
Dominic stopped.
"Richard's men?"
"Not sure."
"How many?"
"One SUV. No plates."
Dominic moved toward the window.
Headlights swept across the driveway.
The vehicle stopped beyond the security gate.
A woman stepped out.
She appeared to be in her late fifties, with silver-streaked dark hair and a long black coat.
In one hand, she carried a medical bag.
In the other, a yellow envelope.
Marco raised his phone.
"She's asking for Elena Rossi."
Elena approached the window.
The moment she saw the woman's face, she went rigid.
"Dominic."
"What?"
"That's Dr. Evelyn Hart."
Dominic stared.
The obstetrician who had supposedly vanished eighteen months earlier.
The woman who had tried to investigate Gabriel's missing birth records.
The woman who might know exactly what happened at the hospital.
Marco's phone rang.
He answered, listened briefly, then turned toward Dominic.
"She says she has proof that Gabriel was taken."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Let her in."
Marco hesitated.
"She also says something else."
"What?"
The security chief looked toward the upstairs bedrooms.
"She says you must not let any of the four boys see her."
Elena's voice trembled.
"Why?"
Marco swallowed.
"Because according to Dr. Hart, one of the children in this house isn't Elena's biological son."