Chapter 4 - THE EXILE’S TRUTH
The lake house in Upstate New York was shrouded in pine trees and heavy mountain rain.
It was a secluded property I had bought years ago—a place where Elena and I used to escape when the city became too loud. Now, it was a golden cage.
I parked my dark SUV beneath the dripping hemlocks fifty yards from the cabin. Two of Julian’s men—guards I had assigned to "protect" Elena—stood on the wrap-around porch, smoking cigarettes in the chill air.
They didn't hear me until I was stepping onto the wooden stairs.
"Boss!" one of them gasped, quickly dropping his cigarette and standing at attention. "We didn't know you were coming."
"Where is she?" I asked, my face set in iron.
"Inside, sir. She hasn't eaten since yesterday."
"Leave," I said flatly. "Take the truck and wait at the gatehouse down the road. Don't come back until I call you."
The guards exchanged a nervous glance, but nobody argued with a Moretti. They bowed their heads, jogged down the steps, and disappeared into the fog.
I pushed the heavy oak door open.
The fireplace was roaring, casting long orange shadows across the rustic living room. Sitting on the leather sofa near the hearth was Elena.
She wore an oversized black cashmere sweater, her dark hair pulled back into a loose knot. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale, and on the wooden coffee table in front of her sat a untouched cup of tea.
When she heard my boots on the hardwood floor, she didn't look up.
"Did Julian send you to collect the rest of my things?" Elena asked, her voice hollow, devoid of life. "Or did you come to throw the rest of my jewelry in the lake?"
My throat tightened. Every step toward her felt like walking on broken glass.
"Elena," I said softly.
She turned her head slowly. When her eyes met mine, the sheer agony in them hit me harder than a bullet.
"Don't," she whispered, standing up and stepping back. "Don't say my name like you still care. You stood in front of fifty people, Leo. You took my ring off. You looked at me like I was a monster."
"I was a fool," I said, stopping three feet away from her.
Elena let out a sharp, breathless laugh, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "A fool? You believed I locked a helpless woman in a dark hole! You believed I could hurt a child's mother! After three years together, Leo... after everything we built... you thought I was capable of that?"
"I was shown evidence that looked undeniable," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "And I reacted like a blind man."
"Then why are you here?!" she screamed, her hands shaking violently. "To apologize? To give me my ring back and pretend you didn't destroy my soul in ten seconds?!"
I reached into my inner coat pocket, pulled out the gold-framed photograph I had brought from my study, and placed it on the coffee table.
It was a picture of Julian, snapped four hours ago by my private investigator, meeting a Vance family lieutenant in a dark alley near the docks.
Elena looked down at the photograph. Her breath hitched.
"Julian," she whispered.
"He framed you, Elena," I said quietly. "He bought the lock on your card. He hired a woman to wear your coat for the security cameras. He used a fake timestamp. He wanted you gone so there would be no one left to protect me when he made his move."
Elena closed her eyes, a heavy shudder running through her body. She sat back down on the edge of the sofa, burying her face in her hands.
I dropped to my knees in front of her—the head of the most powerful family in Manhattan, kneeling on the rug at the feet of the woman I had wronged.
"I don't expect you to forgive me today," I whispered, reaching out to touch her trembling knee, though I didn't dare hold her hand yet. "I broke the one promise I made to you—to trust you above all others. But I need you to listen to me, Elena. Julian thinks he’s won. He thinks you are broken, Mia is silenced, and I am grieving."
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Elena lowered her hands, looking down at me through a mist of tears. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to let him step into the trap he built for me," I said, my eyes burning with cold, absolute vengeance. "And I need your help to pull the trigger."
