Chapter 8
An hour later, a fleet of four black armored SUVs glided through the massive iron gates of the Moretti estate, situated on a sprawling cliffside overlooking the Hudson River. The estate was a towering stone fortress surrounded by dense pine woods, illuminated by discreet perimeter lights that cut through the night fog.
The motorcade parked beneath the stone portico. Dominic stepped out of the lead vehicle, carrying sleeping Nico in his arms. Mara followed closely behind, wearing a heavy black wool coat provided by Dominic's staff over her pale-yellow waitress dress, her simple white shoes stepping onto the grand stone entry. Marco and the remaining bodyguards established an instant, disciplined perimeter around them.
The heavy mahogany front doors swung open, revealing the grand foyer—a magnificent space featuring a sweeping double staircase, crystal chandeliers, and a roaring marble fireplace.
"Welcome home, Mara," Dominic said, setting his son into a custom velvet bassinet held by a waiting nurse.
Mara walked into the center of the foyer, her expressive brown eyes looking around in awe. The sheer scale and luxury of the mansion were overwhelming to a girl who had spent her life in tiny, rented apartments.
"It's huge," Mara whispered, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"It's secure," Dominic corrected, walking over to stand beside her. "This house has sixteen-inch reinforced concrete walls, bulletproof glass, and forty armed men on site twenty-four hours a day. The council cannot reach you here."
He led her through the grand hallway into his private study—a sanctuary of dark mahogany, leather-bound books, and velvet drapes. On the center desk sat a heavy steel safe.
Dominic walked over to the safe, entered a six-digit combination, and pulled out an old, yellowed leather binder. He laid it flat on the desk, gesturing for Mara to step closer.
"What is that?" Mara asked, touching the fine silver chain around her neck.
"These are the original founding documents of the Moretti bloodline," Dominic explained, opening the binder. "Inside are the original share certificates to our international shipping holdings and real estate trusts. For twenty-five years, those trusts have been frozen because the original patriarch's signature required a matching cipher—a symbol carved onto a silver pendant given only to the firstborn daughter."
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Mara looked down at the silver pendant resting on her dress. "My necklace?"
"Your necklace," Dominic confirmed, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You aren't just Elena's daughter, Mara. You are the sole legal owner of forty percent of the Moretti empire's primary assets."
