Chapter 8 - THE MAN WHO WANTED THE EMPIRE
Caleb Dunn was taken to a hospital under police protection.
He had a broken nose, two cracked ribs, and a deep cut across his forehead. The doctors said he would recover. The detectives interviewed him as soon as he was stable enough to speak.
I was not allowed into the room, so I waited in the corridor with Frank and Naomi.
At 9:18 a.m., the lead detective came out.
“Mr. Moretti, Mr. Dunn says he was approached by Malcolm Pierce three weeks ago. He was paid to copy the medical access credentials and disable the room sensor at the secure residence.”
“Did he know why?”
“He says he was told it was for a security test.”
“Did he take the photograph?”
“No. He says someone else entered the room after he left.”
“Who?”
The detective checked his notes.
“Anthony Vale.”
I felt the hallway tilt.
“Did he see him?”
“Yes. He says Anthony was carrying a tablet. He recognized him from a company event.”
“Why didn't he report it?”
“He was threatened. He says Anthony told him his daughter would lose her scholarship if he spoke.”
I looked at Naomi.
“Find the daughter. Make sure she's safe.”
The detective continued.
“Dunn also gave us a location where he believes Anthony and Malcolm have been meeting. An office suite in Stamford, registered to Northbridge Advisory.”
“Can you get a warrant?”
“We already have one.”
I turned to Frank.
“Get the car.”
Naomi caught my arm.
“Dominic, you cannot go there.”
“I'm not going to sit here while they plan another attempt on my son.”
“The police are going. Let them do their job.”
I stopped.
She was right. I had spent years believing that control meant acting before anyone could stop me. That instinct had made me powerful in business. It could get someone killed now.
“Fine,” I said. “But I want updates every five minutes.”
The police entered the Northbridge office at 10:07. The suite was empty. The computers had been wiped, the desks cleared, and the security cameras removed.
They found a shredder still warm.
In a locked cabinet, they discovered a box containing the original silver container, several blank watch cases, and a list of household access codes. The container was sent to the lab. The watch cases matched the model I had given Anthony.
There was also a handwritten note.
If the boy survives, use the second plan.
I read the line at the police station.
“What is the second plan?” I asked.
The detective shook his head. “We're trying to find out.”
My phone rang.
Isabella.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Is Anthony there?”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“Dominic, I found something.”
“What?”
“His laptop. He left it in the guest room. I didn't want to touch it, but I opened it.”
“Why?”
“Because I heard him on the phone last night. He said the first attempt failed, and he needed the documents before you found them.”
“What documents?”
“I don't know. There's a folder with your name.”
My stomach tightened.
“Don't open it. Don't touch anything else. Call the police.”
“I already did. They're on the way.”
“Good. Stay outside until they arrive.”
She began to cry.
“Dominic, did he really try to kill Ethan?”
I closed my eyes.
“I believe he did.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted something.”
“What?”
“Control.”
Isabella's breathing became uneven.
“I married him.”
“I know.”
“I brought him into our family.”
I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault. I wanted to make the pain disappear. But she needed the truth, not a comforting lie.
“You trusted him,” I said. “So did I.”
She was silent.
Then she whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I swallowed.
“So am I.”
The police found the laptop and took it for analysis. The folder contained copies of my private contracts, medical records, and financial authorizations. There was also a draft document transferring voting rights in Moretti Holdings to a trust controlled by Anthony.
The signature was mine.
The authorization had been forged.
The transfer was scheduled for the following morning.
Naomi read the document and looked up.
“If this had gone through, Anthony would have controlled thirty-one percent of the company.”
“And Malcolm?”
“Another twenty-two percent through the holding structure. Together, they would have enough votes to force a leadership change.”
I looked at the page.
“They wanted my company.”
“And they wanted you distracted.”
I thought of Ethan's birthday, the cake, the guests, and Lily's small hand knocking the plate from his grasp.
They had chosen the one moment when I would be surrounded by witnesses and unable to leave the room. If Ethan had reacted, every person would have rushed toward him. The kitchen would have been sealed, the staff questioned, and the first minutes of the investigation would have been chaos.
They had counted on my grief to make me careless.
The detective approached.
“We have a warrant for Anthony's arrest. We believe he may be moving between properties.”
“Where?”
“Your sister's house was one location. We have officers there now. The next likely destination is a private marina in Bridgeport.”
I looked at Frank.
“Do we know which boat?”
“The family yacht is registered under a separate company. It left the marina at 8:50.”
“Destination?”
“Unknown.”
The detective received a call and stepped aside.
When he returned, his expression had changed.
“We have a new problem.”
“What?”
“Someone has contacted the school Ethan attends. They requested his medical schedule and asked whether he would be attending a private event this weekend.”
I felt my blood turn cold.
“Who called?”
“They used a number registered to the school office, but the caller's voice was disguised.”
“Was the information given?”
“No. The school administrator became suspicious and contacted us.”
I looked toward the door.
“Ethan is not going back to that school until this is over.”
The detective nodded.
Then Naomi's phone rang. She listened for a moment and handed it to me.
It was Isabella.
“Dominic,” she said. “The police found something in Anthony's laptop.”
“What?”
“A calendar entry. Tomorrow morning. It says, ‘Second birthday.’”
I looked at the clock.
Tomorrow morning was Ethan's school celebration. The class had planned a small party because his actual birthday had been interrupted.
They had not stopped.
They had simply moved the target.
I turned to Frank.
“Call the school. Tell them to cancel every event and lock down the building.”
He was already dialing.
Then I looked at Naomi.
“Find every location Anthony has access to. Every office, house, boat, and storage unit.”
“I'm on it.”
I stared at the calendar entry.
For the first time, I understood the full cruelty of the plan. They had not only wanted Ethan dead. They had wanted to make sure I knew I could not protect him.
That was the part I would never forgive.
The police also found a draft letter in Anthony's laptop addressed to Isabella. It was written in a tone of apology and affection, as though he expected her to accept his explanation once the business transfer was complete. He described the Moretti empire as something he had been denied and suggested that he had acted because he wanted to secure a future for them both.
Isabella read the letter in the presence of her attorney. She did not cry this time. She asked for a copy, then placed it in the evidence folder.
“He keeps writing as if he did all of this for me,” she said. “He never asked what I wanted.”
I had no answer.
The detectives explained that Anthony and Malcolm had used several companies to disguise their payments. One company paid the fake supplier. Another paid the security contractor. A third held the aircraft used to move people between private airfields. The arrangement had been designed to look like ordinary consulting and event expenses.
The investigation was no longer limited to an attempted poisoning. It had become a coordinated effort to steal control of the company and silence anyone who might expose it.
I signed the documents needed to preserve the corporate records and gave the police access to my private office. Some of the material was embarrassing. Some showed that I had ignored warnings about Malcolm's spending. I authorized the investigators to take it all.
I would rather lose control of a company than protect the people who had used it to threaten children.
When the police said they had located the office in Stamford, I asked for one thing: no one was to enter without the proper warrant and a medical team nearby. I wanted the men arrested, not turned into martyrs or victims of a private war.
The law would have to do what my anger could not.
The school principal called again that afternoon. She wanted to know when Ethan might return and whether the school needed to change its procedures. I told her the school had done the right thing by refusing to release information to an unknown caller. We arranged a review of visitor access, medical records, and pickup authorization for every student, not just Ethan.
The principal thanked me, then asked whether I wanted the school to make an announcement to parents.
May you like
“No names,” I said. “No details about Ethan. Just explain that the school is reviewing its safety procedures.”
I did not want my son's fear turned into a headline or a warning story for other families. If the incident could lead to better protections for every child, that was enough.
