Chapter 2 - The Trial of the PatriarchVincent straightened his silk tie, attempting to summon the cold, unyielding confidence he used in corporate boardrooms.
"Father, Grandfather," Vincent began, his tone practiced and smooth. "It was an operational accommodation. Sophia has been my senior executive assistant for six years. She handles off-ledger logistics, private scheduling, and highly sensitive corporate data. Her previous living situation was compromised, and—"
"Compromised?!" Lorenzo cut him off, his storm-gray eyes flashing like lightning as he slammed his oak cane against the floorboards. BANG!
"She is a salaried employee with a three-hundred-thousand-dollar annual compensation package, Vincent!" Lorenzo roared. "If her living situation was compromised, you issue a security stipend or a corporate lease! You do not purchase an eight-point-five-million-dollar luxury estate in her private name using funds set aside for your son's trust!"
Sophia stepped forward, tears brimming in her large brown eyes, her voice trembling in a carefully rehearsed, fragile plea. "Mr. Moretti... please don't be angry with Vincent. It was all my fault! My six-year-old daughter, Lily, was being harassed by my ex-husband. I was desperate... I begged Vincent for help. He was only being kind—"
"Silence, girl," Dominic ordered flatly, pointing a stern finger at her. "You do not speak in this room unless spoken to."
Sophia gasped, flinching backward as if she had been struck.
I took a slow, elegant step forward, pulling a thin digital tablet from my handbag, setting it flat on the desk before Lorenzo and Dominic.
"Grandfather, Father," I spoke softly, every word steady, clear, and absolute. "Vincent told me this morning that it was 'just a house' and that he could afford it. But my forensic accountants pulled the municipal deed filings an hour ago."
Lorenzo picked up the tablet, scrolling through the documents.
"The Lake Forest mansion isn't the only property, Grandfather," I revealed, looking directly into Vincent's widening eyes. "Over the last eighteen months, while I was undergoing high-risk fertility treatments and carrying Matteo, Vincent transferred an additional three point two million dollars into a private offshore entity registered under Sophia's mother's name in Florida."
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Vincent’s blood drained completely from his face. "Claire... how... where did you get those records?!"
"I got them from the forensic audit I ordered four months ago, Vincent," I answered with a cold, razor-sharp smile. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice four million dollars disappearing from our secondary accounts while I was lying in a hospital bed trying to keep your son alive?"
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