Chapter 3
Marco called again the next morning.
This time Anika sat with Luca.
Not because Marco needed permission.
Because both brothers needed somebody in the room who did not belong to the family.
Marco’s voice sounded steadier.
Luca did not waste time.
“Why Vanessa?”
“Because she answered.”
“What does that mean?”
“I called you first.”
Luca froze.
“When?”
“The night I left.”
“I never got a call.”
“I know.”
Then:
“You were in a meeting with Salvatore.”
Marco had stood outside Luca’s office for twenty minutes with documents in a backpack and Nero on a leash.
He called Luca’s private number.
No answer.
He texted:
Need ten minutes alone tonight.
Luca replied forty minutes later:
Tomorrow.
Marco looked at the word.
Tomorrow.
Then Salvatore came out of Luca’s office laughing.
Put one hand on Marco’s shoulder.
“Still cleaning up vendor paperwork?”
Marco said yes.
Salvatore smiled.
“Good boy.”
That was the moment Marco left.
Not because Luca rejected him.
Because panic turned delay into confirmation.
He called Vanessa.
Why her?
She was nearby at a Bellini Arts event.
She came.
Marco told her:
“I think Salvatore is using Luca’s name to squeeze businesses. I signed approvals. I don’t know how deep it goes.”
Vanessa’s first response was:
“Tell Luca.”
Marco said:
“I tried.”
Then:
“If I tell him with nothing organized, he’ll confront Salvatore.”
Vanessa knew Luca.
She could imagine it.
Maybe Marco was right.
Maybe not.
Then Marco said:
“I need a lawyer who is not Moretti counsel.”
Vanessa knew Anika Ross through a Bellini Arts governance review.
Independent.
Sharp.
Not family-connected.
She called.
Anika agreed to meet.
That was Vanessa’s first good decision.
She drove Marco and Nero herself.
At the office, Anika listened.
Then told Marco:
Do not destroy anything.
Do not confront anyone.
Do not disappear without telling counsel where you are.
Marco laughed.
Then her expression told him she was serious.
Marco went home that night.
The apartment search happened the next afternoon.
Drawers opened.
Desk shifted.
One kitchen cabinet emptied.
Nothing taken.
Could have been burglary.
Could have been warning.
Police report filed.
Then Anika advised temporary relocation while she contacted authorities.
Not witness protection.
Not a new identity.
Temporary caution.
Marco agreed.
Then he made the choice that hurt everyone.
He did not tell Luca.
Anika told him he could.
He said no.
Vanessa said:
“At least tell him you are alive.”
Marco said:
“If Luca knows I’m alive, he finds me.”
Vanessa said:
“Maybe he deserves that.”
Marco answered:
“Maybe I deserve a lawyer more.”
She kept quiet.
Not because Anika ordered her.
Because Marco asked.
Then weeks became months.
The investigation grew.
Northline had invoices.
Related vendors.
Business owners willing to speak.
Some payments looked legitimate.
Some did not.
Marco’s signatures appeared on three master approvals and seven invoice authorizations.
That was his part.
He had not read enough.
Why?
Because Salvatore had mentored him.
Because the amounts looked routine.
Because Marco liked having responsibility without earning it slowly.
He admitted that.
“I was twenty-seven and thought being a Moretti meant I could smell a bad deal.”
Luca did not laugh.
Marco continued.
“I signed things because Salvatore said they were fine.”
Then:
“After I found out what the vendors were doing, I was ashamed to show you how careless I’d been.”
Not only fear of Luca’s reaction.
Fear of Luca’s disappointment.
Luca leaned back.
“You thought I’d protect you.”
“Yes.”
“You thought I’d bury it.”
“I thought you might.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
Then Marco said:
“But I didn’t trust myself to test the difference.”
Honest.
Anika asked:
“What changed yesterday?”
Marco explained.
His temporary apartment had changed twice in eleven months.
Not because he was being hunted constantly.
Because:
lease ended.
one public sighting.
investigation scheduling.
security concerns.
Nero moved with him.
The dog handled change badly.
Then two days ago, Marco saw a man named Dominic Hale outside the building.
Former Northline field supervisor.
Not wanted.
Not charged.
Simply someone Marco recognized.
Hale looked at him.
Did not approach.
Walked away.
Marco reported it.
Investigators advised immediate move while they assessed.
The next temporary housing did not allow large dogs.
Not forever.
A night or two.
Marco refused to put Nero in an unknown kennel after months of instability.
So he called Owen Price.
Owen had trained Nero years earlier in obedience and scent games.
Trusted.
Marco asked him to drive Nero to Luca.
Why the card?
Because Marco did not trust a phone call to arrive before the dog.
Because he wanted Luca to hear his words without family translation.
That was not operational brilliance.
It was emotional cowardice with a memory card.
Marco admitted that too.
Then Luca asked:
“Why not send the message through Anika?”
“I did.”
Anika nodded.
She had a sealed written message to deliver if Marco missed his next check-in.
The video was faster.
Luca stared.
“You created two channels because you thought one would fail.”
Marco laughed faintly.
“Apparently I’m a Moretti.”
That almost broke the tension.
Almost.
Then Luca asked:
“Did Vanessa know Salvatore was involved?”
“No.”
“Not even his name?”
“No.”
“I told her only that someone inside the business was misusing Luca’s name.”
Vanessa had guessed Salvatore once.
Marco refused to answer.
She never had confirmation.
Then Luca asked:
“Did she know you were safe?”
“Anika sent three confirmations because I asked.”
The last one came three months ago.
After that, Marco stopped.
Why?
Because each confirmation kept Vanessa inside a secret she could not act on.
He thought silence would free her.
It did not.
It left her with uncertainty.
Then Marco said:
“I’m sorry for that too.”
Luca looked at Anika.
“Can I see him?”
She answered:
“Not today.”
Marco said through the phone:
“I want to come in tomorrow.”
Anika turned.
“That is new.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I’m done living around this.”
Not case over.
Not safe forever.
Done with being hidden.
Investigators had not required him to stay away from family indefinitely.
That had been his choice after the initial security concern softened.
Another uncomfortable truth.
For months, Marco could have arranged controlled contact.
He did not.
Shame became habit.
Then Luca asked:
“Tomorrow where?”
Anika answered:
“My office.”
Neutral.
No estate.
No Moretti headquarters.
No Salvatore.
Luca agreed.
Then Salvatore’s interview happened before lunch.
We did not get a dramatic transcript.
We got facts later.
He denied threatening businesses.
Denied ordering the apartment search.
Denied sending Hale.
Admitted Northline was his preferred vendor.
Admitted he had encouraged business owners to use it.
Denied implying consequences.
Then investigators showed messages from two business owners.
One read:
Sal says the Moretti name can make permits and deliveries easy or difficult. I’m signing because I don’t want trouble.
Salvatore said that was their interpretation.
Maybe.
Then another witness had an email from a Northline representative:
Mr. Greco strongly recommends participation for businesses wishing to maintain a positive relationship with Moretti interests.
That was uglier.
Still not a murder plot.
Pressure.
Reputation.
Money.
Potential extortion.
The investigation would decide.
Then investigators asked about Marco.
Salvatore said:
“He signed everything.”
True enough to hurt.
Then:
“He knew.”
That was the fight.
Knowledge.
Marco said he did not.
Documents alone could not read his mind.
But timing mattered.
The strongest evidence against Salvatore predated Marco’s approvals.
Some business complaints had gone to Salvatore directly.
Marco had never received them.
That helped.
Still:
he signed.
Then Salvatore said something else.
“Marco disappeared because he stole from his brother.”
Investigators asked how much.
Salvatore gave none.
That claim spread anyway.
By afternoon, someone leaked it to a gossip site.
MORETTI BROTHER HIDING AFTER INTERNAL MONEY DISPUTE.
No source named.
Luca read headline.
His face hardened.
Anika said:
“Do nothing.”
“I am doing nothing.”
“You are reading like you want to do something.”
“That is not illegal.”
“No.”
Then Luca put phone down.
That was growth measured in inches.
Meanwhile, Nero slept in a quiet guest room converted for him.
Dr. Moran returned.
The torn paw had been cleaned and wrapped.
The rear-leg weakness improved after rest.
No neurologic crisis.
Mostly exhaustion.
Then a behavior consultant evaluated only the basics.
No forced testing.
Nero had been in multiple apartments, cars, strange hallways, the basement, my arms, and a crowded dining room.
Too much.
The recommendation:
rest.
predictable handler.
no strangers reaching for collar.
no punishment for warning growls.
vet follow-up.
The consultant asked me:
“Do you want to interact with him?”
I thought.
“No.”
That was allowed.
I liked Nero.
I was also nervous after the bite.
Both could exist.
Then she asked:
“Do you need to work around him?”
“No.”
“Then don’t.”
No courage test.
My own doctor prescribed antibiotics and two days of light duty.
I came back because I needed hours.
Mrs. Vale stopped me.
“Paid injury leave.”
“I’m not badly hurt.”
“That is not the threshold.”
She showed me policy.
I had never read it.
Paid up to three shifts for workplace injury pending review.
I stared.
“Why didn’t anyone explain this?”
Mrs. Vale sighed.
“Apparently we enjoy forty-page handbooks nobody reads.”
Daniel made a one-page injury sheet the next week.
Small change.
Then I went to my evening drafting class.
Yes.
Drafting.
Computer-aided design.
My father had built cabinets until arthritis stopped his hands.
I grew up around measurements, shop drawings, and wood samples.
I did not want to become a cabinetmaker.
I liked drawing the thing before someone built it.
So two nights a week I learned CAD at a community college.
That evening my face looked terrible in the monitor reflection.
My instructor, Nina Patel, asked:
“You okay?”
“Work accident.”
“Can you see screen?”
“Yes.”
“Can you use mouse?”
“Yes.”
“Then sit if you want.”
No interrogation.
We were drawing a reception desk.
Lines.
Dimensions.
Clearances.
One dimension was wrong.
I kept trying to adjust downstream pieces.
Nina stopped me.
“Go back to the source.”
I looked.
The original wall measurement was off by four inches.
Fix source.
Everything else settled.
I laughed.
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Then I corrected the wall.
The drawing aligned.
May you like
Tomorrow Marco Moretti would walk into Anika Ross’s office after eleven months away.
No drawing could tell me whether the family would align as neatly.
