Chapter 7 - The Secret on the Manifest
The door to the terrace clicked open. Julian Vance walked in, holding a slim leather folder. He didn’t seem surprised to find Vincent Moretti kneeling on the floor like a shattered man.
“The car is downstairs, Anastasia,” Julian said softly.
Anna nodded, stepping around Vincent as if he were an inconsequential puddle of water. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Vincent scrambled to his feet, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. His instincts—the predatory mind that made him a ruthless business empire builder—kicked in through the haze of agony. “You’re in New York for more than a charity gala. Vance Global just placed a hostile bid on Moretti Aerospace. You’re trying to buy out my aviation division.”
Anna paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder with a venomous smirk.
“Not buy it, Vincent,” she murmured. “Liquidate it. I’m going to tear apart every piece of metal associated with your family name, sell it for scrap, and salt the earth where your legacy stands.”
Before Vincent could reply, Julian Vance stepped close to him, handing him the leather folder.
“You might want to read page four of the FAA black-box transcripts from three years ago, Moretti,” Julian said quietly. “You spent three years mourning an accident. It’s time you learned what your dear Sophia actually did before the plane hit the tarmac.”
Julian turned and followed Anna out, leaving Vincent alone in the biting cold wind.
Vincent’s hands shook violently as he opened the folder. Inside were official crash investigation files, declassified through Julian’s government connections, alongside an audio transcript between the cockpit and the cabin intercom.
He flipped to page four.
His eyes scanned the timestamp—two minutes before the emergency landing.
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*Cabin Audio Log - Seat 2A (Sophia Carter):*
*[Whispering into personal satellite phone]: ‘He doesn't know. He agreed to let me accompany them. When we hit the ground, make sure the rear pressure latch fails. She cannot make it out of Nevada alive. The inheritance passes to Vincent, and through him, to me.’*
