Chapter 12 - THE BROTHER WHO WANTED EVERYTHING|
Lorenzo Moretti called me at six the following morning.
I was making coffee in the secure apartment when my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Normally, I would have ignored it.
But something told me to answer.
"Hello?"
"Anna Foster."
I recognized his voice immediately.
My blood turned cold.
"Lorenzo."
"You're becoming difficult to reach."
"That's intentional."
He laughed softly.
"You've caused quite a disturbance."
"I haven't caused anything."
"Of course."
His voice remained smooth.
"You're merely standing beside my brother while his entire life collapses."
I gripped the counter.
"What do you want?"
"A conversation."
"Then speak to your attorney."
"You're not listening."
"I've heard enough from you."
He sighed.
"Anna, I don't think you understand how much damage you're doing."
I looked toward the living room.
Dante was reviewing financial documents with Claire.
He hadn't noticed the call.
"Your brother is finally making his own choices," I said.
"He's making choices you've encouraged."
"He's making choices you don't like."
Silence.
Then Lorenzo spoke.
"Do you love him?"
My heart stopped.
"That's none of your business."
"I thought so."
I swallowed.
"What do you want?"
"To offer you a chance to walk away."
I stared at the wall.
"From Dante?"
"From this entire situation."
"And if I refuse?"
Lorenzo's voice cooled.
"Your nursing career is already hanging by a thread."
Anger surged through me.
"Because someone used my credentials."
"Can you prove that to every hospital administrator in Washington?"
I said nothing.
He continued.
"Your brother's name is still attached to a fraud investigation."
"He was never charged."
"Public opinion rarely cares about legal distinctions."
I tightened my grip.
"You're threatening my family."
"I'm offering you a practical solution."
"What solution?"
"Leave Seattle."
I stared.
"That's it?"
"I'll arrange a generous payment."
I almost laughed.
"You think you can buy me?"
"Everyone has a price."
"Not everyone."
His voice hardened.
"Don't be naïve."
I glanced toward the living room.
Dante looked up.
Our eyes met.
He immediately noticed my expression.
He moved toward me.
I raised one hand, silently asking him to wait.
Then I said into the phone, "If you have anything further to say, speak to Agent Pierce."
Lorenzo laughed.
"You really believe the authorities can protect you from everything?"
"No."
I took a breath.
"But I believe they should hear what you're saying."
I ended the call.
Dante stopped beside me.
"Who was that?"
I handed him the phone.
"Lorenzo."
His face hardened.
"What did he say?"
I told him.
Every word.
By the time I finished, his expression had become frighteningly calm.
"He offered you money to leave."
"Yes."
"And threatened your career."
"Yes."
Dante looked toward Claire.
"We need to document this."
She nodded.
"Save the call record and write down the conversation immediately."
I did.
Then Pierce was informed.
When I finished, Dante took my hand.
"Are you all right?"
I nodded.
"Angry."
He almost smiled.
"That seems to be a recurring theme."
I looked at him.
"He asked if I loved you."
The room became very quiet.
Dante's expression changed.
"What did you say?"
"I told him it was none of his business."
He studied me.
"Reasonable answer."
I nodded.
But the silence stretched.
Finally, he asked, "Was it true?"
I stared.
"What?"
"That it was none of his business."
I laughed nervously.
"Yes."
His mouth curved.
"Good."
Then he leaned closer.
"Would you mind if I asked the same question someday?"
My breath caught.
"Dante."
"Not today."
He touched my hand.
"When you're ready."
I looked into his eyes.
Then I surprised myself.
"You might not have to wait long."
His smile softened.
Before he could answer, Claire's phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
Then looked at Dante.
"The trustees have scheduled an emergency meeting."
Dante frowned.
"Again?"
"This one is different."
"How?"
"Several directors are demanding Lorenzo's temporary suspension."
Hope rose in my chest.
Claire continued.
"They've requested independent access to the foundation's accounts."
Dante nodded.
"Good."
"But Lorenzo has called a separate meeting with his supporters."
His expression tightened.
"When?"
"Today."
"Where?"
"At the downtown corporate headquarters."
Dante looked toward Marcus.
"Then I'm attending the trustees' meeting."
Marcus nodded.
"With security."
Dante smiled faintly.
"Naturally."
By noon, the Moretti Foundation's boardroom was filled with attorneys.
Dante entered through the accessible main entrance.
I accompanied him as an invited observer, no longer providing routine nursing care while Evelyn coordinated a transition to another qualified clinician.
The change mattered.
Dante had insisted that our developing relationship be handled transparently.
He didn't want my professional responsibilities confused with our personal feelings.
And I didn't want anything about our future to depend on his employment of me.
Inside the boardroom, several trustees stood to greet him.
Others looked uncomfortable.
Dante stopped beside the long table.
"Good afternoon."
An elderly woman named Margaret Ellis approached.
She had served on the foundation's board since its creation.
"Dante."
Her eyes filled.
"I'm sorry."
He looked surprised.
"For what?"
"For not asking more questions."
Dante was silent.
Margaret glanced toward his wheelchair.
"We let your brother convince us that protecting your health meant excluding you from decisions."
Dante's expression softened.
"You're asking questions now."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Then let's begin there."
The meeting lasted nearly three hours.
Independent accountants presented preliminary findings.
Several transfers had bypassed ordinary review procedures.
Some grant recipients could not be verified.
Documents showed relationships between foundation executives and companies receiving payments.
Lorenzo's attorneys disputed the conclusions.
Victoria submitted a statement denying wrongdoing.
But the board had seen enough to act.
By a substantial majority, the trustees voted to suspend Lorenzo's executive authority pending investigation.
They also approved an independent audit.
Dante did not celebrate.
He simply thanked them.
Then he requested that the foundation continue its medical grants wherever payments could lawfully proceed.
"Patients shouldn't suffer because administrators failed them," he said.
Margaret nodded.
"Agreed."
For the first time, I saw the kind of leader Dante had been before the accident.
Not someone obsessed with power.
Someone determined to use it responsibly.
After the meeting, reporters gathered outside.
Dante stopped before the microphones.
A journalist asked whether he intended to resume full leadership immediately.
"I'm reviewing the appropriate governance arrangements with the board," he answered.
"Does this mean your brother is guilty?"
"That is for the evidence and legal process to establish."
"Are you angry?"
Dante paused.
"Yes."
Cameras flashed.
He continued.
"But anger doesn't excuse me from making careful decisions."
Another reporter raised her hand.
"What message would you give people who believe your disability limits your ability to lead?"
Dante looked directly into the cameras.
"Ask us what we can do instead of deciding for us."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then a photographer called his name.
Dante turned toward the sound.
I stood several feet away.
He looked at me.
And smiled.
The photograph appeared online within an hour.
Dante Moretti in his wheelchair outside the foundation headquarters.
Not hiding.
Not apologizing.
Not being spoken for.
Simply looking toward a woman who believed in him.
By evening, thousands of people had shared the image.
Many wrote about their own experiences of being underestimated after illness or injury.
Others criticized the invasion of his medical privacy.
Some questioned the foundation's financial oversight.
For once, the public conversation was no longer entirely controlled by Lorenzo.
But our victory was temporary.
At seven that evening, Agent Pierce called.
Her voice was unusually serious.
"We have a problem."
Dante put the call on speaker.
"What happened?"
"Lorenzo hasn't returned to his residence."
Marcus straightened.
"His security team?"
"Several employees have left their posts."
Dante frowned.
"Is there a warrant?"
"Investigators are pursuing lawful steps in connection with the evidence."
Pierce paused.
"We believe he may attempt to leave the country."
Dante looked toward the window.
"Then stop him."
"We're coordinating with the appropriate authorities."
A second call came through.
Marcus answered it.
His expression changed.
"Boss."
Dante looked at him.
"What?"
"Your father's plane has landed."
Relief crossed Dante's face.
Then Marcus continued.
"But his driver hasn't arrived at the terminal."
Dante went still.
"What do you mean?"
"Carlo's security escort was supposed to meet him."
"Where is he now?"
Marcus listened.
His jaw tightened.
Then he lowered the phone.
"Carlo left the airport with a man claiming to represent the family."
I felt a cold sensation move through me.
Dante stared.
"Who?"
Marcus swallowed.
"We're checking the footage."
A minute later, an image arrived.
It showed Carlo Moretti walking beside a tall man wearing a dark suit.
The man's hand rested lightly on Carlo's shoulder.
I recognized him immediately.
Daniel Cross.
Lorenzo's security director.
Dante stared at the photograph.
His expression emptied.
Then his phone rang.
Lorenzo.
He answered.
"Where is my father?"
His brother laughed softly.
"Hello, Dante."
"Where is he?"
"Relax."
Dante's voice hardened.
"If you've hurt him—"
"Always so emotional."
Lorenzo paused.
"I think it's time we had a private conversation."
Dante stared at the phone.
"What do you want?"
"Everything you took from me today."
The room went silent.
Then Lorenzo delivered the demand.
"Come to the old mountain house, brother."
May you like
He paused.
"And this time, don't bring your nurse."
