Chapter 4 - confrontation in the gazebo
Victor’s sedan slammed to a halt inside the subterranean courtyard of the Moretti mansion. Victor marched through the doors, his face dark with lethal rage.
"Check the security feed from the perimeter walls!" Victor barked as he entered the tactical command center.
Marco typed furiously at the central console. "We have camera coverage of the east garden wall at 4:12 PM. A silver Mercedes pulled up outside the gate. A man in a dark trench coat helped Celeste over the wall."
Marco paused the video, enhancing the license plate on the silver Mercedes.
"Who owns the car?" Victor asked, standing over Marco’s shoulder.
"It’s registered to a shell company in Delaware," Marco said, running a cross-reference database search. "But the fuel toll card used twenty minutes ago on the Queens-Midtown Tunnel was charged to a private account owned by Don Sal Moretti."
Victor’s eyes narrowed into slits. Sal Moretti was the Don of the rival Brooklyn faction—a man Victor had fought for control of the New York docks for a decade.
"Sal isn't stupid enough to kidnap my wife from my own house without collateral," Victor muttered.
"Look at this, Boss," Marco said, opening a second file on the monitor. "A courier just dropped this off at the front gate sixty seconds ago. It was addressed directly to you."
Victor opened the courier box. Inside was a clear plastic bag containing a small gold ring—Clara’s original diamond wedding ring—along with a printed folded document.
Victor unfolded the document. It was a certified lab DNA report stamped by the New York State Forensics Department.
The paper listed Victor Moretti as Sample A and Ellie Moretti as Sample B. The conclusion at the bottom was printed in bold red text: PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 0.00%.
Victor’s chest felt hollow, but his eyes remained sharp. He examined the bottom corner of the document under the desk lamp.
"Look at the official seal stamp, Marco," Victor said quietly.
Marco leaned in. "It looks legitimate, Don Victor."
"The date at the bottom is typed in Times New Roman," Victor pointed out, pointing his thick finger at the ink. "The State Forensics Department has used Arial font on official reports since 2020. This report is a complete fabrication."
"Someone went to massive lengths to forge a state DNA document," Marco whispered. "Why?"
"To make me reject my own daughter," Victor said, standing up. "To make me hand over Ellie’s legal trust fund to Celeste before Ellie turns nine."
Before Marco could reply, the secure landline phone on Victor’s desk rang loudly.
Victor picked up the receiver. "Speak."
A woman’s voice came through the speaker—pantings, terrified, and breathless. It was Celeste.
"Victor... please!" she gasped over the crackling line. "Sal took me! He has me at the old iron foundry in Queens! He’s going to kill me!"
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"Why should I care?" Victor asked coldly.
"Because Sal didn't forge that DNA paper!" Celeste cried out. "Your brother Julian gave it to him! Julian is at the foundry right now with Sal!"
