Chapter 6 - Sins of the Matriarch
At eight o’clock the following morning, the front gates of the Moretti estate on the Charles swung open.
A single black SUV drove up the winding, maple-lined gravel path and came to a stop before the grand neo-classical mansion. Dominic stepped out. He was dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit, his hair slicked back, his expression carved from granite.
He did not knock. He entered the grand foyer using his biometric keycard.
The house was suffocatingly quiet. The scent of withered flowers from the abandoned gala lingered in the air.
Victoria Moretti was sitting in the grand morning room, sipping black coffee from an antique porcelain cup. She had not slept. Her eyes were shadowed, her makeup applied with hurried precision, but when she saw Dominic enter, her posture snapped rigid.
“You have five minutes to explain yourself before I instruct the family board to strip you of your executive authorities,” Victoria said, her voice vibrating with cold fury.
Dominic didn't answer. He walked across the Persian rug and tossed a thick leather binder onto the glass coffee table between them.
The binder slapped against the glass with a sharp crack.
Victoria’s gaze flicked down. “What is this?”
“Open it,” Dominic said.
Victoria hesitated, then reached forward with trembling, manicured fingers. She opened the leather cover.
On top lay the certified DNA certificates from Dr. Mercer. Beneath them lay copies of bank statements, forged travel itineraries from six years ago, and transcripts of wire transfers made from Victoria’s personal discretionary account to a private surveillance operative who had monitored Elena’s bus departure to Maine.
Victoria’s breath hitched, but she did not drop her aristocratic gaze. “You think a few genetic tests frighten me? Dominic, you are a thirty-seven-year-old bachelor who got an art restorer pregnant. In the eyes of the Barretts, in the eyes of society, this is a scandal. We can pay her off. We can buy her a home in Europe, settle twenty million on the boys, and tell Arthur that you had a momentary lapse before your wedding. We can still save the Barrett alliance!”
“The Barrett alliance is dead,” Dominic said calmly.
Victoria slammed her cup onto the saucer, spilling black coffee across the linen napkin. “Are you out of your mind? Arthur Barrett controls the zoning permits for our harbor expansion! If he turns against us, the city will revoke our deep-water leases! We will lose hundreds of millions!”
Dominic took a step closer to his mother. He leaned down, placing both hands on the arms of her high-backed chair, trapping her within his shadow.
“You don't understand, Mother,” Dominic whispered, his dark eyes boring into hers with predatory precision. “You think I care about the harbor leases. You think I care about the Barretts' social standing. For fifteen years, I ran your companies, laundered your reputation, and buried the bodies of my father’s mistakes because you told me it was my duty.”
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp growl.
“You took the woman I loved and threw her into the gutter with four children in her belly. You made her raise my sons in freezing cold apartments while you drank vintage wine under crystal chandeliers. You made my son Julian suffer with a heart murmur while you spent five hundred thousand dollars on an engagement party for a woman I never wanted.”
Victoria swallowed hard, genuine fear finally flickering in the depths of her eyes. “Dominic… I am your mother.”
“You are a ghost,” Dominic said coldly. “As of eight o’clock this morning, the board convened without you. I invoked Section 14 of my father’s testamentary trust. The morality and loyalty clause. By concealing direct heirs to the Moretti lineage, you committed gross breach of fiduciary duty against the family trust.”
Victoria’s face drained of all color. “You… you wouldn’t dare.”
“I already did,” Dominic replied. “Your credit lines are frozen. Your access to the corporate offices is revoked. Your car leases expire at noon. You have forty-eight hours to pack your personal belongings and vacate this house.”
“This is *my* house!” Victoria shrieked, rising to her feet, her hands shaking with hysterical fury. “I built this empire with your father! You cannot throw me out!”
“This house belongs to the Moretti Trust,” Dominic said, his voice flat and merciless. “And the beneficiaries of the Moretti Trust are now Leo, Julian, Matteo, and Luca Moretti. They will be sleeping in the nursery down the hall by Friday.”
Victoria stumbled backward, grasping the edge of the fireplace mantel for support. She looked at her son—the man she had molded, calculated, and controlled—and realized that she had created a monster far more ruthless than herself.
“Arthur will destroy you for this,” Victoria gasped, tears of rage and humiliation streaming down her face. “He won’t let you walk away from Sloane. He will tear this city apart before he lets you humiliate his daughter!”
Dominic turned toward the double doors, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket.
May you like
“Let him try,” Dominic said without looking back. “I’ve spent fifteen years holding back the dark for this family. Tell Arthur Barrett that if he comes for mine, I will introduce him to the man I kept locked in the basement.”
***
