Chapter 4 - The Security Footage and the Voice from the Past
Down in the subterranean security and surveillance hub of the Moretti estate, the glowing screens cast an eerie blue light across Alessandro Moretti’s chiseled face.
Arthur Vance, Moretti’s head of security and lifelong confidant, stood beside the main console, dragging a timeline scrubber backward across the digital logs from the previous afternoon.
“Here, boss,” Arthur said, tapping the glass of the center monitor.
“East River promenade, camera four. 3:15 PM, right as the blizzard whiteout hit its peak.”
Moretti leaned closer, his stormy gray eyes fixing on the screen.
The footage showed the snowy pedestrian path running parallel to the frozen river.
For a moment, the screen was a blur of driving white snow.
Then, a small figure bundled in a white snowsuit appeared—Sofia.
She wasn't wandering aimlessly.
She was walking with a purposeful, measured stride, clutching a small paper bakery bag.
And walking ten paces behind her, keeping her safely obscured by the shadow of a stone pavilion, was a tall man wearing a dark wool overcoat and a fedora pulled low over his forehead.
“Stop right there, Arthur,” Moretti commanded, his voice dropping into a lethal register.
“Enhance the man’s face. Adjust the contrast.”
Arthur worked the keyboard rapidly.
The grainy digital pixels shifted, sharpening the image of the man trailing Sofia through the blinding snow.
The man stepped out from the shadow of the pavilion to gently guide Sofia toward the exact park bench where Grace Harper was huddled in her thin Astoria coat.
As the man tilted his head upward to check for passing security patrols, his face was illuminated by the amber glow of a nearby streetlamp.
Moretti’s breath caught in his throat.
The blood roared in his ears.
It wasn't a Chicago cartel hitman.
It wasn't an operative from the New York rival families.
It was Victor Vance.
Arthur’s own estranged brother—a disgraced former corporate fixer who had been cut out of the Moretti syndicate five years ago for leaking classified logistics data to federal prosecutors.
“Victor,” Moretti growled, his hands clenching into tight fists against the edge of the metal console, the knuckles turning stark white.
“That bastard.”
“He didn't just use my daughter as a pawn,” Arthur said, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and familial shame.
“He orchestrated the whole thing. He knew Grace Harper was hiding in Manhattan. He knew she was looking for her sister. And he deliberately pushed her into your orbit by using Sofia as bait.”
Moretti stood up slowly from the rolling chair, his frame towering over the console.
“Why?” Moretti asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
“What does Victor gain by putting Maya Harper’s sister inside my house?”
Before Arthur could answer, the encrypted communicator on the central desk chimed with a sharp, high-priority alert.
Arthur reached out and tapped the speakerphone icon.
“Vance,” Arthur answered.
“Arthur,” a smooth, chillingly familiar voice echoed through the subterranean room.
Victor Vance.
“I trust you’re enjoying the new houseguest,” Victor purred over the secure line.
“She’s quite a charm, isn't she? Reminds you so much of Maya... before we had to dispose of the auditing problem down in South Chicago.”
Moretti stepped past Arthur, slamming his hand down onto the speakerphone mic.
“Victor,” Moretti barked, his voice vibrating with a fury that could shatter glass.
“You stepped onto my property. You used my daughter. If you’re breathing in ten minutes, consider it a clerical error.”
Victor’s laughter crackled through the speaker, arrogant and unbothered.
“Save the tough-guy routine for your capos, Alessandro. You want to know what happened to Maya Harper? You want to know where the three million dollars went? The answers are sitting right upstairs in your guest bedroom.”
May you like
Victor paused, letting the poison sink in.
“And if you want to see the real master ledger—the one Maya hid before she was taken—you’ll bring Grace Harper to the abandoned railway terminal in Long Island tonight at midnight. Come alone. Or the girl learns what really happened to her sister.”
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