Chapter 3 - The Audit of Eighteen YearsThe rage that erupted inside Vincent Moretti was unlike anything Chicago had seen in two decades.
Within forty-five minutes, Marcus Vance and a team of twelve armed Vance Security officers had locked down the penthouse floor of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in downtown Boston, where Sophia and Ethan were staying.
Inside the sprawling marble living room of the penthouse, Sophia stood near the sofa, her dark silk gown disheveled, her hands shaking as she held a glass of scotch.
The double oak doors were thrown open with a violent, shattering impact!
BOOM!
Vincent stepped inside. He didn't wear a coat. His dark sleeves were rolled up over his tattooed forearms, his severe face contorted into a mask of pure, untouchable vengeance.
Behind him walked senior corporate litigator Bridget Colton and two private forensic accountants.
Sophia dropped her scotch glass. The crystal shattered flat against the marble floorboards, liquor splashing over her expensive heels.
"Vincent...!" Sophia shrieked, backing away toward the window. "What... what is the meaning of this?! Why are there guards outside?!"
Ethan stepped out from his bedroom, looking bewildered and frightened. "Dad? What's going on?"
Vincent didn't look at Ethan. He stopped five feet from Sophia, pulling the digital tablet from his pocket, tossing it flat onto the marble coffee table between them.
"Three million, eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand dollars, Sophia," Vincent spoke, his voice dropped into an icy, frozen register that dropped the room's temperature to absolute zero. "Eighteen thousand dollars a month. For two hundred and sixteen consecutive months."
Sophia went dead white. Her knees buckled, and she had to grab the edge of the sofa to keep from falling. "V-Vincent... I can explain—"
"You intercepted my wife's trust funds," Vincent stated flatly, every word dropped like a block of glacier ice. "You forged her digital signature on international bank proxies. You bought designer clothes, paid for Ethan’s private academy tuition, and funded your family's real estate using the money meant for my firstborn son."
"HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO EXIST!" Sophia screamed hysterically, her polished mask completely shattering into an ugly, sweating rage. "She walked out on you! You belonged to me and Ethan! If you knew she had your son, you would have thrown us away!"
Bridget Colton stepped forward, opening a thick leather binder bound by gold seals:
CRIMINAL CHARGES: Formal federal indictments filed for Grand Larceny, Systemic Wire Fraud, Identity Theft, and Mail Fraud spanning eighteen years.
ASSET SEIZURE: Immediate legal execution of civil asset forfeiture freezing all bank accounts, properties, and trusts registered under Sophia Reynolds' name.
THE PATERNITY REVELATION: Forensic DNA records pulled from the Moretti Family Registry revealing that Ethan was not Vincent’s biological son—a fact Sophia had concealed using altered clinic results seventeen years ago.
Ethan let out a sharp, horrified gasp, staggering backward against the wall. "WHAT?! Mom... what is she talking about?!"
Sophia collapsed flat onto her knees on the marble floorboards, weeping hysterical, pathetic tears as two female federal marshals stepped out from the hallway, holding heavy steel handcuffs.
CLICK. CLICK.
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"Sophia Reynolds," Lead Marshal Miller declared coldly. "You are under arrest."
Vincent turned his back on her without a single word of mercy, walking out into the night air as marshals dragged Sophia out of the hotel in total, public disgrace.
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