Chapter 7 - The Man Who Came Back from the Dead
For one terrible second, I thought Michael had been shot.
I caught him before his head struck the floor.
His face was thinner than I remembered. A fresh cut ran along his forehead, and his wrists were bruised where restraints had bitten into his skin.
But he was alive.
His eyes opened.
"Dom?"
I could barely speak.
"You son of a bitch."
A weak smile crossed his face.
"Missed you, too."
Then he looked past me.
"Clara?"
She crawled out from beneath the table.
"Daddy!"
Michael tried to sit up, but pain stopped him. Clara threw her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder.
He held her with a desperation I'd never seen in another human being.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
She pulled back and struck his chest with her tiny fist.
"You promised!"
"I know."
"You promised you'd come back!"
"I know."
"You made me change my name three times!"
His face crumpled.
"I know, baby."
She began crying harder.
"I don't want to be Anna anymore. I don't want to be Katie. I just want to be Clara."
Michael held her tightly.
"Then Clara you will be."
I turned away.
Some things were too private for a man like me to witness directly.
Then I remembered Sloane.
He was gone.
The lantern room's eastern window stood open, rain blowing through the broken glass. One of his men lay unconscious near the stairs, but Sloane and the second gunman had vanished.
Marco returned from the staircase.
"The federal team is surrounding the building. They claim they have a warrant."
"They don't have jurisdiction over a private property in the middle of an active shootout?"
"They say they do."
"Then they're lying."
Michael struggled to his feet.
"Dom, listen to me. We have minutes."
I took his arm.
"Start talking."
"Project Lantern was created by Father and Sloane. They used it to move witnesses, informants, and people who had access to sensitive financial records."
"Move them where?"
"Undisclosed facilities. Private detention centers. Places with no public records."
Elena stepped forward.
"Some of those people were never meant to come out."
I stared at her.
"How many?"
"At least forty-seven."
"Forty-seven?"
"That we know about."
Michael glanced toward Clara, making certain she was out of earshot.
"Our father wanted to control everyone who could threaten the family. Sloane wanted control of the money. Together, they created a system where witnesses became invisible."
"And you found out."
"I discovered the accounts. Elena found the names."
Elena continued.
"We tried to bring everything to the authorities. But the first agent we contacted passed our identities to Sloane. Michael realized we had been compromised, so he staged his death."
I looked at my brother.
"You let me bury you."
His eyes filled with pain.
"I had a choice. Let them follow me to you, or disappear."
"You could have told me."
"They were watching you. Father had informants inside your organization. If I'd contacted you, they would have known immediately."
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to embrace him.
I wanted to return to the cemetery and tear my father's name off every stone.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered most.
"Why is Clara the last piece?"
Michael's expression darkened.
"Because Elena saved a copy of the original agreement. The one naming everyone who authorized Project Lantern."
"Where is it?"
"Not in a safe."
He reached into the lining of his coat and produced a small memory card.
"Everything was copied onto this. The physical contract is only one part of the evidence."
"And Clara?"
Michael closed his eyes.
"She witnessed something when she was five. She saw Sloane take a man from our house. She remembers his voice, his face, and the words he said."
"Couldn't you simply give her a statement to the authorities?"
"We tried. Every time we came close, someone inside the system warned Sloane. He needs Clara to disappear because her testimony connects him to the disappearances."
Outside, boots thundered along the stairs.
Marco checked his weapon.
"We're out of time."
A loudspeaker ordered us to surrender.
Michael seized my wrist.
"There's something else. The original contract wasn't between me and Elena."
"Then who signed it?"
He looked me directly in the eye.
"You did."
The words hit me harder than Sloane's punch.
"I never signed anything about Clara."
"You signed it nine years ago, the night of the funeral. Father told you it was an insurance document protecting your business interests."
My stomach turned.
Michael reached for the handwritten agreement in my jacket pocket.
"Look at the last page, Dom."
I unfolded the paper.
The one Clara had shown me at the Raven.
Beneath her four childhood rules was a second sheet, hidden inside the fold.
It bore my signature.
My real signature.
And beneath it, in my own handwriting, were the words:
IF MICHAEL MORETTI IS DECLARED DEAD, HIS CHILD SHALL REMAIN UNDER THE PROTECTION OF DOMINIC MORETTI UNTIL THE ORIGINAL RECORDS ARE PUBLICLY RELEASED.
At the bottom was a final sentence.
NO MEMBER OF THE MORETTI FAMILY MAY CLAIM CUSTODY OF THE CHILD WITHOUT THE CHILD'S CONSENT.
I looked up at my brother.
He nodded slowly.
"That contract was supposed to protect her."
A violent pounding shook the lower door.
Then Mercer shouted through the loudspeaker.
"DOMINIC MORETTI! WE KNOW YOU HAVE THE DOCUMENT!"
Michael pulled Clara close.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"There's one clause you haven't read."
I unfolded the final page.
It contained one sentence written in red ink.
IF THE GUARDIAN BETRAYS THE CHILD, THE ENTIRE ESTATE BECOMES THE PROPERTY OF THE CHILD.
I stared at the words.
My father's entire estate.
Every legitimate company. Every property. Every account I had inherited.
All of it.
And I now understood why Victor Sloane needed Clara so desperately.
She wasn't merely the witness who could expose him.
She was the one person with a legal claim that could strip him of the empire my father had built.
And if she survived long enough to claim it, she could bring the entire system crashing down.
May you like
Outside, the entrance door exploded inward.
Mercer was coming for us.
