Chapter 5 - RULES OF THE MORETTI HOUSE
Luca’s father’s house sat on a quiet block in Brooklyn Heights behind an iron gate that looked decorative until Vivian saw the cameras hidden inside the stone posts.
The place was not what she expected.
No marble lions.
No enormous fountain.
No theatrical mansion built to announce money.
It was a narrow brownstone with black shutters, old brick, and three steps leading to a dark green door. It could have belonged to a professor or a retired judge.
Except for the two armed men waiting across the street.
Vivian got out of the SUV before Marco could come around to open the door.
“Who used my badge?”
“We don’t know,” he said.
“Then why are we standing here?”
“Because whoever used it is still inside.”
Vivian looked at the house.
Her stomach tightened.
Luca came around the front of the SUV.
“No one goes in until we clear the rear.”
Vivian folded her arms. “You think Priya is inside?”
“I think someone wants us to think you were inside.”
That was worse.
“How do they even have my badge?”
“Cloned from an access reader, photographed, borrowed, copied. There are options.”
“Great.”
Marco touched his earpiece.
“Rear clear. No movement.”
Luca started toward the gate.
Vivian followed.
He stopped.
“No.”
She almost laughed.
“You agreed—”
“Immediate physical danger.”
“Yes, and there may be someone armed in there.”
“Then why are you going in?”
His stare said the answer was obvious.
Vivian stepped closer.
“You told me I set terms.”
“You did.”
“So do not turn those terms into decorative language the first time they become inconvenient.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
Marco looked away.
Luca lowered his voice.
“This is not a strategy meeting.”
“I know.”
“There may be an intruder.”
“I know.”
“And you have no training.”
“Neither did Thomas when someone killed him.”
Something flashed in Luca’s eyes.
Vivian regretted the sentence.
Not because it was untrue.
Because it was cruel.
He looked toward the house.
Then back at her.
“You stay behind Marco.”
“That is not—”
“Behind Marco, or in the car.”
She hated compromise when it felt like surrender.
But she nodded.
The front door opened with Luca’s key.
The house smelled closed.
Dust, old wood, faint lemon polish.
No one had lived there recently, but someone maintained it.
Photographs lined the entrance hall.
Vivian’s attention snagged on one before she could stop herself.
A younger Luca standing beside an older man at a summer barbecue.
Luca maybe nineteen.
Smiling.
Actually smiling.
It changed his whole face.
She looked away before he noticed.
They moved deeper into the house.
Marco first.
Vivian second.
Luca behind her, which she suspected was deliberate.
The cloned badge had registered at a wall reader installed beside the basement door.
Marco pointed.
“System was added after the renovation.”
Vivian stared at the reader.
“Why would a private house use company badges?”
Luca answered.
“My father stored company records here before everything went digital.”
“You left the system active?”
“No.”
Marco checked the panel.
“It was reactivated remotely two months ago.”
Vivian turned.
“By whom?”
“That is becoming a very popular question.”
A sound came from below.
Everyone froze.
A scrape.
Then three quick knocks.
Marco drew a gun.
Vivian’s breath caught.
Luca put one hand lightly against her shoulder and moved her behind the wall.
“Stay.”
This time she did.
Marco opened the basement door.
“Who’s down there?”
Silence.
Then a woman shouted.
“Don’t shoot!”
Priya.
Vivian moved before Luca could stop her.
She ran down the stairs.
“Priya?”
The basement was larger than the footprint suggested, half storage room and half old records archive. Metal shelves. Filing boxes. An old desk.
Priya Desai sat on the floor behind it with one wrist zip-tied to a pipe.
Her lip was split.
One sleeve was torn.
But she was alive.
Vivian dropped beside her.
“Oh my God.”
Priya laughed once, shakily.
“You always were dramatic.”
Vivian stared at her.
“You are tied to plumbing.”
“Fair point.”
Marco cut the zip tie.
Luca stood at the bottom of the stairs, scanning the room.
“Who brought you here?”
Priya rubbed her wrist.
“I don’t know his name.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall. White. Forties. Scar near his left ear. Knew the security code.”
Marco and Luca exchanged a look.
Vivian saw it.
“You know him.”
Marco answered reluctantly.
“Could be Caleb Voss.”
“Who is Caleb Voss?”
Luca’s voice was flat.
“Former security director.”
“Former because?”
“He disappeared after Sofia died.”
The room went quiet.
Priya stared at him.
“You thought he was dead.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“How do you know that?”
“Thomas told me.”
Vivian helped Priya sit in the desk chair.
“Start at the beginning.”
Priya shook her head.
“No. We don’t have time.”
“That sentence is becoming a problem.”
Priya looked at Luca.
“They brought me here because Thomas hid something in this house.”
Luca’s attention sharpened.
“What?”
“I don’t know. He said Brennan had left a backup.”
“The audio?”
“Not the audio.”
Priya pointed weakly toward a row of old filing cabinets.
“Paper.”
Vivian frowned.
“Why paper?”
“Because paper doesn’t have an access log.”
Luca moved toward the cabinets.
Marco stopped him.
“Could be trapped.”
Vivian stared at Marco.
“Trapped?”
He looked at her.
“You said you wanted truth.”
“Not the deluxe edition.”
Priya almost laughed, then winced.
Marco checked the cabinet frames, drawers, underside.
Finally he stepped back.
“Clean.”
Luca opened the first drawer.
Old vendor files.
Second.
Insurance.
Third.
Nothing.
Vivian stood and began scanning labels.
Years.
Departments.
Acquisitions.
She stopped at a drawer marked PERSONAL—A. MORETTI.
“Your father?”
Luca came beside her.
“Antonio.”
She pulled the drawer.
Locked.
Luca frowned.
“It was never locked.”
Marco tested it.
No movement.
Vivian looked around.
“Key?”
Luca stared at the drawer.
Then at the old desk.
He crossed the room and pulled open the center drawer.
Empty.
Second.
Nothing.
Third.
He stopped.
Inside lay a chess piece.
A black king.
Vivian stared.
“That seems aggressively symbolic.”
For the first time all day, Luca almost smiled.
“My father played every night.”
He turned the piece over.
A tiny key had been taped to the base.
Vivian’s eyes widened.
“Your family really commits to a theme.”
Luca removed the key.
It opened the cabinet.
Inside was one thin ledger.
No title.
No markings.
Luca took it out.
The first page contained handwritten names and numbers.
Vivian came closer.
“What is it?”
He flipped.
More names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Shell companies.
Private loans.
Board members.
Then one heading in Antonio Moretti’s handwriting.
BRENNAN / CONTINGENCY.
Vivian felt the hairs rise on her arms.
Below it were three names.
Marcus Brennan.
Sofia Moretti.
Damen Knox.
And beneath them, another.
Caleb Voss.
Luca stared.
“Keep going,” Vivian said softly.
The next page showed a diagram.
Not financial.
Ownership.
Holding companies linked to subsidiaries linked to debt instruments.
Vivian understood it before Luca did.
“They’re not stealing the company.”
His gaze moved to her.
“They’re borrowing against it.”
She pointed.
“Look. These shells don’t own shares. They own notes. Convertible notes.”
Luca’s face darkened.
“If the covenants are breached—”
“They convert.”
“To equity.”
“Yes.”
Priya leaned forward.
“How much?”
Vivian did the math mentally.
Then again because she did not trust the answer.
“Enough for a blocking position.”
Luca went still.
“How much?”
“Twenty-two percent if every note converts.”
Marco swore.
Priya closed her eyes.
Vivian kept reading.
“But that still doesn’t give control.”
“It gives leverage,” Luca said.
“Unless someone already controls votes somewhere else.”
The room fell silent.
They all reached the same conclusion.
The board.
Someone on Luca’s own board was part of it.
Luca turned pages faster.
At the back of the ledger was a list of initials.
Payments.
Dates.
One set repeated more than any other.
R.M.
Vivian frowned.
“Who is R.M.?”
No one answered.
She looked up.
Luca’s face had changed.
Marco looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
Priya saw it too.
“Who?”
Luca closed the ledger.
“My uncle.”
Vivian’s chest tightened.
“Rocco Moretti?”
“Yes.”
She knew the name.
Chairman emeritus.
The man who had stepped back from operations after Antonio Moretti died.
The man newspapers described as Luca’s mentor.
The man who still controlled two board seats through family trusts.
“Where is he?”
Luca stared at the ledger.
“Upstate.”
“Can we call him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if he is involved, calling warns him.”
Vivian studied Luca’s face.
“You don’t believe it.”
“I believe evidence.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“No.”
The answer was almost a whisper.
For the first time, she understood what this investigation might actually cost him.
Not money.
Not a company.
Family.
Priya suddenly leaned back, pale.
Vivian caught her shoulder.
“You need a hospital.”
“No hospital.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m bruised.”
“You were kidnapped.”
“And whoever took me knew exactly which private urgent care Moretti security uses.”
Marco frowned.
“How?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
She looked at Luca.
“Your security is compromised.”
“By Voss?”
“Maybe.”
“Who else?”
Priya swallowed.
“Thomas said there was someone still inside. Someone high.”
Marco’s expression hardened.
“Name.”
“He didn’t know.”
Vivian remembered the edited garage footage.
The cloned badge.
The fact that someone could reactivate systems at Luca’s father’s house.
She looked at Marco.
Then at Luca.
“How many people know we’re here?”
Luca answered.
“Six.”
“Names.”
“Me. You. Marco. Two exterior men. Driver.”
Priya shook her head.
“Too many.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Everyone froze.
Marco raised his gun.
Luca moved in front of Vivian and Priya.
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Marco whispered into his radio.
No response.
His face changed.
“Exterior?”
Static.
Nothing.
Luca looked toward the stairwell.
“Back room. Now.”
Vivian helped Priya up.
They moved behind the metal shelving into a narrow storage room.
Marco killed the basement lights.
Darkness.
Vivian’s heart beat so hard she could hear it.
A beam of light appeared at the top of the stairs.
Then footsteps descended.
One.
Two.
Three.
Someone reached the basement.
Silence.
Vivian held Priya’s hand.
She could feel Priya trembling.
A man’s voice spoke from the darkness.
“Luca.”
Luca did not answer.
The voice came again.
“You always were terrible at following instructions.”
Luca’s body went rigid.
Vivian saw his face in the faint spill of street light from a basement window.
Recognition.
Pain.
“Uncle Rocco,” he said.
The flashlight beam swung.
A man in his sixties stepped into view.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
No visible weapon.
Behind him stood two men.
One had a pale scar beside his left ear.
Caleb Voss.
Priya sucked in a breath.
Luca’s voice turned cold.
“What did you do?”
Rocco Moretti looked at the ledger in Luca’s hand.
Then he smiled sadly.
“The question,” he said, “is what your father did before he died.”
Vivian felt the room shift.
May you like
Rocco looked directly at her.
“And what he left for Ms. Carter to find.”
