Chapter 3 - the vault beneath the tree
The thirty-foot Christmas tree towered over the courtyard like a mountain of glowing gold and green. Underneath its heavy lower branches lay hundreds of lavishly wrapped boxes, velvet gift bags, and decorative wooden crates.
Victor walked slowly toward the tree, his heavy leather shoes crunching softly against the dusted snow. Caesar trotted right beside him, his ears pinned forward in alert attention.
Celeste tried to step forward to block his path, but Marcus casually stepped into her way, his broad frame blocking her completely.
"Stay right there, Mrs. Moretti," Marcus said smoothly.
Victor reached the base of the tree. He crouched down, his thick fingers moving through the pristine white snow skirts. Beneath a massive silver gift box decorated with an elaborate silk ribbon sat a flat, iron-bound wooden box stamped with the family's crest.
Victor pulled the box out into the light. The lock on the front had been freshly forced open, its brass latch hanging loose.
He lifted the lid. Inside lay three unopened envelopes bound by gold silk ribbons, alongside a small, antique silver teething ring engraved with the initials E.M.
Victor lifted the silver ring. His rugged face hardened into stone. He knew that ring. It was a family heirloom passed down through four generations of Moretti leadership—a ring that his late brother Julian had carried in his pocket every single day.
Victor turned back to face Celeste, holding the silver ring high enough for the entire courtyard to see.
"Julian’s teething ring," Victor said, his deep voice slicing through the winter night. "The ring he swore would belong to his firstborn son."
Celeste backed away until her heels struck the edge of the stone fountain. "That proves nothing! Julian could have left that ring anywhere!"
"Julian didn't leave it anywhere," Victor countered, walking back toward her with terrifying, deliberate steps. "He placed it in the crib of his newborn son the night he was born. The same night you reported that the infant died of sudden respiratory failure."
Victor opened the first gold-ribboned envelope, scanning the handwritten lines written in his late brother's bold cursive.
To my brother Victor, the letter read, if you are reading this, Celeste has already moved to eliminate my legacy. The boy born tonight is my blood. I have hidden him where her greed cannot reach him—under the name of the brother I trust with my life.
Victor lowered the paper, his dark eyes locking onto Celeste with absolute, lethal clarity.
"Eddie isn't my adopted son," Victor revealed, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls of the mansion. "Eddie is Julian's son. The true firstborn heir to the entire Moretti empire."
A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd of syndicate elders and high-society guests.
Logan Moretti, standing near his mother, looked terrified as he backed away toward the mansion doors.
"You knew," Victor whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You knew the moment Eddie was brought to me seven years ago. And you kept quiet so Logan could claim the family trust."
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Celeste’s eyes flashed with venomous despair. "Julian was weak! He was going to give half the family's shipping contracts to the city charities! He didn't deserve to rule, and neither does his pathetic, quiet son!"
Before Victor could respond, the heavy iron gates at the entrance of the courtyard exploded inward with a deafening, metallic crash.
