Chapter 2 - The InterrogationWithin ten minutes, Ryan and Linda were seated rigidly on the living room sofa, flanked by two of Tony’s massive security guards who stood like marble statues on either side of them. The apartment, usually filled with Ryan’s condescending lectures and Linda’s constant nagging, was dead silent save for the hum of the refrigerator.
Dad walked out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him to ensure I could rest, and stepped into the living room. He didn't sit down. Instead, he slowly paced across the hardwood floor, his heavy leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the boards.
Ryan swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he tried to put on a brave face.
“Mr. Moretti... look, I admit things got out of hand. Couples fight! It’s normal! But you can’t just break into our home and kidnap my wife—!”
Dad stopped pacing. He turned his head slowly, locking his dark, piercing eyes onto Ryan’s.
“Kidnap?” Dad repeated softly. “You call taking my daughter out of a cage where you’ve been slowly beating her to death for seven months kidnapping?”
“She’s exaggerating!” Linda chimed in, her voice shrill and defensive. “She fell down the stairs! She’s always been clumsy! And besides, she provoked Ryan! A good wife knows how to keep her husband calm, but Emily has always been ungrateful—!”
Dad raised his hand slightly.
Linda stopped talking instantly, choking on her own words as the sheer weight of Dad’s glare bore into her.
“Mrs. Vance,” Dad said, his voice dropping into that quiet, terrifying register that made even seasoned criminals wet their pants. “Do you know who I am?”
Linda blinked nervously. “You’re... you’re just an old man. A retired businessman.”
A humorless, chilling smile touched the corners of Dad’s mouth.
“Thirty years ago, people in this city didn't speak my name above a whisper,” Dad said calmly, walking slowly toward the sofa until he stood directly in front of Ryan and Linda. “I built an empire out of blood, silence, and iron discipline. I spent decades cleaning up messes much uglier than you two. And when I retired, I promised myself I would leave that world behind to watch my daughter grow up, get married, and live a happy life.”
Dad leaned down, resting his knuckles on the coffee table, bringing his face inches from Ryan’s.
“Instead, I find out that some pathetic little corporate middle-manager with a Napoleon complex has been treating my daughter like a punching bag while she’s carrying my grandchild.” Dad’s voice turned to ice. “Tell me, Ryan... what do you think happens to men who hurt my family?”
Ryan began to hyperventilate. Sweat poured down his temples, soaking his collar. “I... I didn't mean to! It was just stress! The construction firm was auditing my accounts, I was under pressure—!”
“Stress,” Dad repeated, nodding slowly. “That’s a fascinating excuse. Let’s see how well it holds up under different circumstances.”
Dad straightened up and gestured to Tony Rossi.
“Tony, open the briefcase.”
Tony stepped forward, snapping open a heavy leather attaché case on the dining table. Inside were not guns or money, but a neat stack of thick legal files, bank statements, and printed digital photographs.
“Ryan Miller,” Dad said casually, turning his back and walking toward the window. “Employed as a senior project manager at Apex Development Group. Except... you haven’t been managing projects for the last two years, have you?”
Ryan’s face drained of every remaining drop of color. He looked at the files in horror.
“How... how do you know about that?” Ryan choked out.
“When a man marries my daughter, I don’t just run a casual background check,” Dad said without turning around. “I map his entire life. I know about your gambling debts at the underground clubs on Grand Avenue. I know about the embezzlement scheme you’ve been running through fake subcontractor invoices at Apex Development—stealing nearly four hundred thousand dollars over the last eighteen months.”
Linda gasped, staring at her son in utter disbelief. “Ryan? You’re stealing from your company?!”
“Shut up, Mom!” Ryan yelled, panic completely taking over. He looked up at Dad, his eyes wide with terror. “Please, Mr. Moretti! If Apex finds out about those invoices, I’ll go to federal prison for twenty years! Please don't give those files to the authorities!”
Dad finally turned around, his expression entirely devoid of mercy.
“Prison?” Dad let out a low, cold laugh. “Prison is too good for you, Ryan. Federal prison provides three meals a day, a warm bed, and medical care. You didn't provide any of those basic dignities to my daughter while she was locked in this apartment.”
Dad walked over, picked up the thick folder, and tossed it casually onto Ryan’s lap.
“Here is how this is going to work,” Dad said, his voice absolute and unnegotiable. “Within the hour, you are going to sign a complete, uncontested divorce settlement relinquishing all claims to Emily, her assets, and any future financial support. You will pack your bags, leave this apartment, and disappear from Chicago by midnight.”
“And if I don’t?” Ryan whispered, shaking uncontrollably.
May you like
Dad smiled—a terrifying, predatory smile that reminded everyone in the room exactly who Vincent Moretti was.
“If you don’t,” Dad said softly, “those financial fraud files go straight to the FBI, and the underground loan sharks you owe fifty grand to will receive your new forwarding address. Choose wisely.”
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