Chapter 3 - MONDAY MORNING
At 7:54 Monday morning, Adriano Moretti entered the executive floor of Moretti Atlantic Holdings believing he had survived the worst weekend of his life.
He had no idea the worst part had not started yet.
Bella had left the penthouse Saturday morning without drama. One suitcase for herself, two for the baby, her medical files, and the wooden box containing every ultrasound photograph.
Adriano watched from the hallway.
“Where are you staying?”
“With people I trust.”
“Bella.”
She stopped.
“If anything happens with the baby—”
“You’ll be informed.”
“I’m his father.”
“Yes.”
She left him with that single word.
By Sunday, Bianca had moved several dresses into apartment 6B at Harbor House. She expected Adriano to stay there.
He didn’t.
For reasons he could not explain, the apartment suddenly felt cheap.
Every surface now represented something Bella had discovered before he realized she was even looking.
At 7:59 Monday morning, Adriano entered his office.
Victor Reeve had called twice.
Bianca had texted six times.
Transfer today?
Did you speak with finance?
Victor needs confirmation.
Adriano called her.
“Stop messaging me.”
“We’re too close.”
“To what?”
Silence.
Then Bianca said, “To finishing this.”
His expression hardened. “You said Reeve’s allocation was temporary.”
“It is.”
“How temporary?”
“Adriano, don’t start getting nervous now.”
Nobody spoke to him that way.
“I’m not nervous.”
He ended the call.
At exactly eight, Adriano opened the authorization portal.
Bianca Ricci Consulting LLC.
Eight million dollars.
He entered his credentials.
Then pressed EXECUTE.
The screen changed.
TRANSACTION SUSPENDED.
Adriano frowned.
He tried again.
ACCESS DENIED.
His office door opened.
Daniel Russo, Moretti Atlantic’s chief financial officer, walked in without knocking.
That alone told Adriano something was wrong.
“What?”
Daniel closed the door.
“Your trust authority has been suspended.”
Adriano stared at him.
“What did you say?”
“Your Moretti Legacy Trust access.”
“Fix it.”
“I can’t.”
Adriano rose slowly.
“You can.”
“No.”
Daniel placed a legal notice on the desk.
Adriano looked down.
TEMPORARY REMOVAL OF MANAGING TRUSTEE.
Matteo Moretti’s signature sat beneath Alina Mercer’s certification.
Adriano’s eyes moved across the reasons.
Self-dealing.
Potential beneficiary harm.
Unauthorized related-party transaction.
Contingent unborn beneficiary.
His son.
Bella.
“Where is my father?”
“Boardroom.”
“Why?”
Daniel did not answer.
Adriano stormed out.
The executive floor fell quiet as he passed. Men who normally greeted him immediately lowered their eyes.
He hated that most of all.
The boardroom doors slammed open beneath his hands.
Matteo sat at one end of the table.
Alina beside him.
Independent directors.
Family directors.
Corporate counsel.
Bella.
Adriano stopped.
His wife wore navy. No jewelry except her wedding ring, which was still there.
For now.
He looked directly at her.
“You.”
Bella’s expression tightened, but she did not retreat.
Matteo’s voice cut across the room.
“Sit down.”
Adriano ignored him.
“You went to my father?”
“I went to the trust protector.”
“Don’t play lawyer with me.”
Alina stood. “Then speak to the lawyer.”
His eyes flashed.
“You froze my authority because my wife is angry I slept with someone?”
Bella flinched.
Tiny.
But Adriano saw it.
Shame moved through him before anger buried it.
Matteo pushed a document across the table.
“This has nothing to do with your mistress.”
Adriano laughed. “Of course it does.”
“Eight million dollars.”
The laughter stopped.
“Through the mistress,” Matteo added.
Adriano’s gaze shifted toward Bella.
“How did you get this?”
Bella remained silent.
He took one step closer.
“How?”
Matteo slammed his palm onto the table.
“SIT.”
The entire room froze.
Adriano finally took the nearest chair.
Matteo began with the apartment.
Then the car.
Then the private flights.
Then the ring.
Adriano defended each expense as corporate, strategic, hospitality-related, or temporary until Matteo reached the eight-million-dollar transfer to Victor Reeve.
“It was an investment.”
Alina opened another folder.
“Into what?”
“A private port-development vehicle.”
“Which port?”
Adriano hesitated.
Alina saw it.
Everyone did.
“Reeve Harbor Strategies has no operating assets,” she said.
“Victor told me—”
Matteo’s face changed completely.
“Victor told you?”
Adriano looked suddenly less like a Don and more like a son who had realized his father could still make him feel seventeen.
“It was supposed to secure access to Pier Nine negotiations.”
Bella finally spoke.
“Through Bianca?”
Adriano looked at her.
“Why did our son’s inheritance need your mistress as the middleman?”
Silence.
Bella’s voice trembled now, but she kept going.
“You missed the appointment where doctors told me our baby might come early.”
“Bella—”
“You were with her.”
“I know.”
“You missed the next one.”
“I know.”
“You bought her a ring with money from a trust meant to outlive every person in this room.”
Adriano’s face tightened.
“Don’t pretend this isn’t revenge.”
The accusation wounded her more than he intended.
Bella took a breath.
Then another.
“You think I wanted this?”
Her voice finally broke.
“You think I wanted to sit across from your father, thirty-three weeks pregnant, explaining that my husband was financing another woman with money protecting our unborn child?”
Adriano looked away.
Bella continued.
“I would have given anything for the biggest problem here to be that you stopped loving me.”
That sentence reached him.
His face changed.
Before he could answer, the boardroom doors opened.
Bianca entered quickly.
“Victor is calling me every thirty seconds. The transfer failed.”
She stopped.
Saw the room.
Saw Matteo.
Saw Alina.
Saw Bella.
Too late.
Alina’s expression did not change.
“Ms. Ricci, thank you for confirming that.”
Bianca went pale.
Adriano stood slowly.
“Confirming what?”
No one answered.
Bianca looked toward the door.
Security had stepped into the corridor.
Adriano’s eyes narrowed.
“Bianca.”
She swallowed.
“What exactly is Victor waiting for?”
Her phone vibrated.
The screen lit before she could hide it.
VICTOR REEVE:
HE SIGNED THE AUTHORIZATION. WHY ISN’T THE MONEY HERE?
Adriano looked at the message.
Then at Bianca.
For the first time that morning, his anger disappeared.
What replaced it looked almost like fear.
“You told him I signed.”
Bianca backed away.
May you like
“Adriano—”
“What the hell did you sell me?”
