The Girl He Could Not Lose

Victor Moretti lived in a glass condominium overlooking the river and answered his door in bare feet with a whiskey glass in his hand.

He looked enough like Luca to make the difference unsettling. Same dark eyes. Same height. Softer jaw. Less control.

He stared at Luca, Marco, and Maya in the hallway.

“Well,” Victor said. “Either this is a family reunion or an arrest.”

Luca stepped inside. “Where were you yesterday between three and six?”

Victor’s smile vanished. “There it is.”

“Answer.”

“At a physical therapy appointment until four. Then home.”

“Anyone confirm?”

“My therapist. Doorman. Half the residents because I argued with a delivery driver at five.”

Maya remained near the entrance.

Victor noticed her. “Who’s the student?”

“Maya Santos,” Luca said.

Victor’s expression sharpened. “The warehouse girl.”

Luca went still. “How do you know that?”

“It’s Chicago. Your men shut down three blocks before sunrise. People talk.”

“Not her name.”

Victor looked from Luca to Marco. “Dominic told me.”

There it was.

Maya asked, “When?”

Victor frowned. “This morning.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“That some college girl found Alessia and now Luca was keeping her at the house.”

Marco’s voice became careful. “We never told Dominic Maya’s name.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed.

Luca said, “We never told him there was a student.”

The whiskey glass lowered.

“You think Dominic knew before you called him.”

“No,” Maya said. “We think he knew more than he should.”

Victor laughed once without humor. “Welcome to the last two years of my life.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “Explain.”

Victor walked toward the window. “Isabella came to me three weeks before she died.”

Luca stopped breathing.

“She thought foundation money was being moved through my trust,” Victor continued. “She asked if I knew anything about Bell Municipal Systems. I told her no.”

“You never told me.”

“She told me not to.”

Luca’s voice dropped. “And you listened?”

“She was afraid you’d confront whoever was behind it.”

Maya exchanged a glance with Marco.

Victor turned back. “She was right about you.”

Luca took one step forward.

Marco said, “Not now.”

Victor laughed again. “Still protecting him, Marco?”

“I’m protecting the conversation.”

Maya asked, “Why was the trust in your name?”

Victor’s face hardened. “Because someone wanted Luca to find it.”

“You knew?”

“Not until six months ago. My attorney found irregular filings. I started tracing them.”

“Why not tell Luca then?”

Victor looked at his brother. “Because we weren’t exactly exchanging Christmas cards.”

Luca said, “Our daughter—”

“My niece,” Victor cut in. “And don’t you dare turn this into evidence that I don’t care about her.”

The room sharpened.

Victor set the whiskey down.

“I loved Isabella. She was the only person in this family who could tell both of us we were idiots and make us thank her.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“She called me the night before she died.”

Luca’s anger vanished.

“What did she say?”

“That she had proof. That if anything happened to her, I should look at the Falcon account.”

Maya said, “Falcon.”

Victor nodded. “I didn’t understand. Not then.”

Dominic’s silver bird.

“Why haven’t you found it?” Marco asked.

“I have.”

Victor crossed to a cabinet and removed a folder.

Inside were bank statements and corporate records.

“Falcon Holdings,” he said. “Registered in Nevada. Beneficial ownership hidden behind three layers. But one payment last year came from an account I recognized.”

He slid a statement toward Luca.

Moretti Foundation.

Authorized by Dominic Vale.

Luca stared at the signature.

Maya asked, “Is that enough to prove he controls Falcon?”

“No,” Victor replied. “But there’s more.”

He opened his phone and played a voicemail.

A man’s voice filled the room.

Victor, stop digging. You’ve already lost one person because you couldn’t leave things alone. Don’t make your brother lose another.

The message was distorted electronically.

But Maya watched Luca.

He recognized the cadence.

“Dominic?” she asked.

Luca did not answer.

Victor did.

“I thought so. I just couldn’t prove it.”

Marco said, “When did you receive this?”

“Eight days ago.”

Maya looked at him. “And Alessia was kidnapped yesterday.”

Victor’s face collapsed for the first time.

“I thought the threat was about me.”

“No,” Luca said quietly. “It was about her.”

Victor looked at his brother. “Luca, I swear to you—”

“I know.”

The words surprised everyone.

Luca picked up the folder.

Then Maya’s phone rang.

Unknown number.

Marco said, “Don’t answer.”

Maya looked at the screen.

A text appeared.

YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE HOME.

A second message followed.

NOW YOUR ROOMMATE PAYS.

Victor also gave Marco access to the trust’s original incorporation records. One signature had been notarized on a day Victor was documented in Montreal. The notary had since died, but the discrepancy established something important: Victor’s name had not merely been used loosely. Someone had built the shell specifically to survive a future audit.

“This was designed years ago,” Maya said.