Chapter 7 - THE PRICE OF THE MORETTI NAME
“Forty million dollars. In my name.”
Dominic stared at the forged resolution.
Peter nodded.
“And that's only what I've found.”
Dominic looked at Helen Price.
“How long until Raymond reports it?”
“According to Peter, tomorrow morning.”
Dominic glanced toward the window.
New York glittered beneath the night sky.
He had spent his adult life building a reputation that could silence a room with one look.
Now his father's closest friend was preparing to destroy him with paperwork.
“Can you prove the signature was forged?” Claire asked.
Helen examined the document.
“Possibly. But we need the original digital records, approval history, and independent financial evidence.”
“Raymond controls those systems,” Peter said.
“Not all of them,” Dominic replied.
He reached for the conference phone.
Then stopped.
He looked at Helen.
“If I call my people, Raymond will say I interfered.”
Helen nodded.
“Exactly.”
Dominic slowly withdrew his hand.
“Then we do this properly.”
Claire watched him.
It was the first time she'd seen him choose restraint when force might have been easier.
Michael arrived twenty minutes later.
He listened as Peter explained the transfers.
Then he examined the list of recipients.
One name caught his attention.
“Briarwood.”
Dominic looked over.
“The children's home?”
Michael nodded.
“Raymond kept sending money there after I left.”
Peter leaned closer.
“Because Briarwood wasn't just a children's home.”
“What was it?” Claire asked.
Peter looked uncomfortable.
“Some children were sent there under false records. Others were transferred between institutions without proper family consent.”
Michael went pale.
“I remember boys who disappeared.”
Helen raised her eyes.
“Disappeared how?”
“Staff told us they'd been adopted. But sometimes their belongings remained for months.”
Claire felt cold.
Thomas had been moved from St. Catherine's to Northbridge.
Michael had spent years in Briarwood.
The children's trust had financed both institutions.
It wasn't simply a financial fraud.
Raymond had used vulnerable children as tools.
Dominic looked at Peter.
“How many children?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out,” Helen said firmly. “But don't contact anyone at the institutions. We need independent records.”
Michael rested his hand on the table.
“We're not the only families he hurt.”
Nobody disagreed.
The following morning, Raymond arrived at the Moretti Foundation headquarters for the emergency board meeting.
He wore an expensive charcoal suit.
His expression was calm.
Dominic sat at the head of the conference table.
Michael sat beside him.
Across from them were Helen, Peter, and three independent trustees.
Raymond stopped when he saw Peter.
“My boy,” he said. “I wondered where you'd gone.”
Peter stood.
“Please don't call me that.”
Raymond's expression barely changed.
“You're upset.”
“No. I'm finished.”
Raymond looked toward Dominic.
“So this is your plan? Turn my own grandson against me?”
Dominic leaned back.
“Sit down, Raymond.”
Raymond remained standing.
“I have devoted forty years to this family.”
“And today we're going to discuss what that devotion cost everyone else.”
Raymond slowly sat.
Helen distributed copies of the foundation's financial statements.
“These transfers require explanation,” she said.
Raymond glanced at them.
“Routine investment movements.”
“Then why were the beneficiaries listed as educational programs that closed years ago?”
Raymond smiled.
“Administrative errors.”
“And the forged signatures?”
The smile faded.
Dominic leaned forward.
“You used my name.”
Raymond looked at him.
“Your father used my name plenty of times.”
The room went silent.
Dominic's expression hardened.
“That's not an answer.”
“No,” Raymond replied. “It's history.”
He opened his briefcase.
Inside was a thick folder.
“I came prepared.”
He passed copies to the trustees.
The first page contained an agreement dated 2008.
Antonio Moretti and Raymond Vale had signed it.
Dominic recognized his father's handwriting.
The agreement authorized certain trust accounts to be managed privately.
Raymond pointed to a clause.
“Antonio gave me discretionary authority to protect family assets during periods of legal uncertainty.”
Helen examined the page.
“This doesn't authorize theft.”
Raymond shrugged.
“Depends on how one defines a family asset.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“Where's the money?”
Raymond looked him in the eyes.
“Not where you think.”
The meeting ended without resolution.
The trustees voted to freeze Raymond's authority and request an external audit.
But the allegations against Dominic remained serious.
Outside the conference room, Michael confronted Raymond.
“Why did you tell me Dominic abandoned me?”
Raymond stopped.
For the first time, his expression looked genuinely tired.
“Because I thought he'd become like Antonio.”
“He was twelve.”
“I know.”
“You made a child feel unwanted.”
Raymond looked away.
“And I regret that.”
Michael shook his head.
“Regret without action is just another way to protect yourself.”
Raymond turned toward Peter.
“Thomas.”
The name stopped everyone.
Peter slowly faced him.
Raymond's eyes were wet.
“I gave you a life.”
“You gave me someone else's life.”
“I gave you a home.”
“You took me from mine.”
Raymond's face tightened.
“Your father couldn't protect you.”
Peter stared.
“My father?”
“Daniel Bennett.”
Claire stepped forward.
“What are you saying?”
Raymond looked at her.
“Daniel wasn't the innocent mechanic you remember.”
Claire's stomach dropped.
“He was my father.”
“He was Antonio's driver before Samuel. And he knew exactly what we were doing.”
Dominic stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Raymond looked at him.
“You want the truth? Ask Claire why her father was still working for your family years after his son supposedly died.”
Claire stared.
Her father had told her he left the Moretti family before she was born.
Had that been another lie?
That evening, Claire returned home and searched through Daniel's old belongings.
Margaret sat beside her.
“Mom, did Dad ever work for Raymond Vale?”
Margaret's face changed.
“Why?”
“Because Raymond says Dad helped him.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Daniel made mistakes, but he loved his family.”
“What mistakes?”
Margaret looked toward the window.
“Before you were born, he drove for Antonio. One night, he came home with blood on his sleeve. He said he'd been in an accident.”
Claire stared.
“Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to.”
Margaret opened an old wooden box.
Inside lay Daniel's wedding ring, a rosary, and several faded photographs.
She lifted the rosary.
“He carried this for years after Thomas died.”
Claire noticed a small metal cylinder attached to the chain.
“What's that?”
Margaret frowned.
“I don't know. Your father never let anyone open it.”
Claire examined the cylinder.
It unscrewed.
Inside was a tightly rolled piece of paper.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded it.
A date.
An address.
And a handwritten sentence.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, FIND THE CHILD I HELPED HIDE.
Below it was Daniel's signature.
Claire looked at her mother.
Margaret began crying.
Then Claire noticed another line beneath the first.
May you like
It was written in different ink.
ANTONIO ORDERED THE SWITCH. RAYMOND KEPT THE BOY. I WAS THE ONE WHO DROVE HIM AWAY.
