Chapter 3
The police arrived before Vincent left.
Two detectives stood at our front door while my father watched from the couch and Lily gripped my hand.
“Emma Carter?”
“Yes.”
“We need to ask you some questions about an incident involving Victoria Langford.”
Vincent stepped beside me.
“You can speak with her attorney present.”
I stared at him.
“I don’t have an attorney.”
“You do now.”
One detective recognized him.
His posture changed.
“Mr. Moretti, we’re not arresting anyone.”
“Good.”
His voice remained polite.
“Then Miss Carter can schedule an interview after she has counsel.”
The detective looked at me.
“That’s your right.”
I nodded.
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
After they left, I rounded on Vincent.
“I can’t afford an attorney.”
“I can.”
“I don’t want you paying for everything.”
“I’m paying for nothing.”
“You literally just said—”
“My legal department is already involved because Victoria attempted to assault my mother. Your interests overlap with ours.”
That was probably true.
Still, I hated feeling indebted.
“I don’t want charity.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Why do you keep calling help charity?”
That stopped me.
He continued.
“You protected my mother without asking what she could give you.”
“Yes.”
“So why do you assume anyone helping you must be buying something?”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
Because the last few years had taught me that every favor eventually became another bill.
Vincent looked toward Dad.
“May I ask what happened?”
Dad answered before I could.
“Congestive heart failure.”
My chest tightened hearing him say it so plainly.
Vincent sat across from him.
“Where are you being treated?”
“County medical center.”
“Dr. Patel?”
Dad looked surprised.
“Yes.”
“My company funds part of their cardiac program.”
Of course it did.
Vincent seemed to own pieces of everything.
Dad smiled faintly.
“Then tell them to make the coffee better.”
Vincent laughed.
It made him look younger.
For a minute, he wasn’t Chicago’s untouchable billionaire.
He was just a man talking to my father.
Then his security chief called.
The gala video had spread further.
Several guests had publicly confirmed that Victoria raised her hand first.
Her assault allegation was already weakening.
But Victoria didn’t stop.
By evening, my former employer received a letter from her attorneys accusing me of defamation.
I had never spoken publicly about her.
It didn’t matter.
The message was clear.
She wanted me scared.
It worked.
I found Dad in the kitchen after midnight.
He was sorting bills.
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
I sat across from him.
“What happens if she sues me?”
“We fight.”
“With what money?”
Dad looked at me.
“Emma, listen.”
“I’m tired of hearing that everything will work out.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“No, Dad. I don’t think you do.”
My voice broke.
“I am terrified all the time.”
Lily appeared in the doorway.
I hadn’t heard her come downstairs.
I wiped my face.
“Go back to bed.”
“No.”
She sat beside me.
“I’m terrified too.”
Dad exhaled.
For the first time, nobody pretended.
Dad was afraid his heart would fail.
Lily was afraid she would become another expense.
I was afraid if I stopped moving, our whole family would collapse.
We sat there crying together.
It was ugly.
And somehow relieving.
The next morning, Isabella called me herself.
“Come have lunch.”
“Mrs. Moretti—”
“Isabella.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“Why?”
“Because your son has already hired me an attorney.”
“He told me.”
“And Victoria is threatening legal action.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound worried.”
“My dear, I have been rich for fifty-eight years. People threaten lawsuits the way normal people threaten to stop sending Christmas cards.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Come.”
I agreed.
The Moretti house wasn’t a house.
It was an estate overlooking Lake Michigan.
I spent five minutes afraid to touch anything.
Isabella noticed.
“If you break something, Vincent can afford another.”
“I heard that,” he said from the doorway.
She smiled.
“Good.”
Lunch was strangely normal.
Soup.
Bread.
Tea.
No servants hovering over us.
Isabella asked about Dad.
I asked how she was feeling.
Then she told me why she had been alone at the gala.
“I wanted to prove I could still attend events without my son assigning an army to me.”
Vincent frowned.
“You disappeared from your aide.”
“I relocated.”
“You hid.”
“I relocated quietly.”
I tried not to laugh.
Isabella looked at me.
“After my stroke, everyone began treating me as though I became stupid.”
Her hands tightened.
“My body became slower. My mind did not.”
Vincent’s expression softened.
She continued.
“Victoria knew who I was.”
I froze.
“What?”
Vincent put down his glass.
“Mother.”
“She knew.”
Isabella’s voice sharpened.
“That is what I tried to tell you.”
Vincent stared at her.
“She recognized you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would she—”
“Because she was angry.”
Isabella looked at me.
“Victoria wanted Vincent to support a development project.”
His jaw tightened.
“I refused.”
“She blamed me.”
I felt cold.
“This wasn’t a misunderstanding.”
“No,” Isabella said.
Victoria had targeted her deliberately.
The attempted slap wasn’t some random outburst.
It was retaliation.
Vincent stood and walked toward the window.
“How long has she been bothering you?”
Isabella looked guilty.
“Several months.”
He turned.
“Mother.”
“I didn’t want another security detail.”
“She threatened you?”
“She said unpleasant things.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Isabella sighed.
“She told me I should convince you to reconsider the Langford Harbor project.”
Vincent’s expression went still.
I had learned enough about him to recognize that stillness.
He was furious.
“What project?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“A redevelopment plan worth almost four hundred million dollars.”
“And you refused?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because hundreds of low-income tenants would be displaced.”
That surprised me.
Maybe my face showed it.
Vincent almost smiled.
“You assumed billionaires enjoy throwing people out of apartments?”
“I assumed billionaires enjoy four hundred million dollars.”
Isabella laughed.
Vincent stared at me.
Then he laughed too.
The moment didn’t last.
His phone vibrated.
He checked it.
“Excuse me.”
He stepped away.
Isabella reached across the table.
“Victoria is dangerous because she believes money protects her from consequences.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
Her eyes held mine.
“But money is only power when people agree to be afraid of it.”
I thought about the ballroom.
Everyone watching.
Nobody moving.
Then Vincent returned.
His face was grim.
“Victoria withdrew the police complaint.”
“That’s good.”
“No.”
He placed his phone on the table.
“My investigators found out why.”
He looked at Isabella.
“The Langford Harbor project has another investor.”
“Who?”
Vincent hesitated.
Then he said a name that made Isabella go pale.
“Daniel Moretti.”
I looked between them.
“Who’s Daniel?”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
May you like
“My brother.”
And from the way he said it, I knew Victoria wasn’t the only person we needed to fear.
