Chapter 7 - The Secrets of the Moretti Estate
The Moretti Estate in Oak Ridge was an imposing fortress of limestone, wrought iron, and century-old oak trees, sprawling across hundreds of secluded acres. High security gates and armed private patrols guarded the perimeter, creating an enclave of quiet luxury that felt worlds apart from the harsh reality of the city.
When the car pulled up to the main mansion, Emma was breathless. Leo stared out the window with wide, shining eyes, clutching a comic book to his chest.
“It looks like a castle, Emma,” the boy whispered in awe.
“It really does, buddy,” she murmured, feeling an odd mixture of wonder and intimidation.
They were settled into a sun-drenched private cottage just fifty yards from the main residence. Within two hours, a world-renowned pediatric neurosurgeon, Dr. Harrison, arrived to examine Leo.
“The damage is reversible, Miss Carter,” Dr. Harrison announced after completing a thorough scan. “With the surgical procedure scheduled for two weeks from now, followed by specialized aquatic therapy at the estate’s rehabilitation wing, Leo should be walking without assistance by the end of the year.”
Emma wept quietly in the hallway, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs.
“I told you I keep my promises.”
Emma turned around quickly to see Vincent Moretti standing behind her. He had shed his tuxedo for a charcoal cashmere sweater and tailored slacks, looking less like a ruthless corporate titan and more like an aristocratic lord at home. Yet the sheer intensity in his dark eyes remained unchanged.
“Mr. Moretti,” Emma said, quickly wiping her tears. “I don't know how to thank you. There are no words—”
“You don't need to thank me,” Vincent interrupted smoothly. “You saved my mother from profound humiliation and potential injury. To me, that is worth more than any sum of money. But now, your work begins.”
Vincent led her through a private glass breezeway into the main mansion’s west wing, where Isabella was resting in a lavish conservatory filled with exotic orchids.
“My mother’s condition is fragile,” Vincent explained quietly as they walked. “She suffers from periodic cognitive decline—mild dementia. But recently, her episodes have grown more erratic and severe. The night of the banquet was one of them. She managed to slip past four security guards and walk two blocks to the hotel alone.”
Emma frowned, her sharp mind processing his words. “Two blocks alone in downtown Chicago? In a wheelchair?”
Vincent stopped, looking down at her with a piercing gaze. “Precisely. Someone opened the private elevator for her at our penthouse. Someone deliberately disabled the tracking sensor on her chair.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You think someone inside the household helped her get lost?”
“I don't think,” Vincent replied coldly. “I know. My mother has enemies, Emma. Corporate competitors who wish to see her declared legally incompetent so they can contest her family trust—a trust that holds forty percent voting power in Moretti Global.”
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He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “I brought you here not just to be her companion, Emma. I brought you here because you are an outsider. You owe no allegiance to the staff, to my board, or to anyone in Chicago high society. I need you to be my eyes and ears. Watch everyone who approaches my mother. Especially those who claim to love her.”
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