Chapter 6 - Unraveling the Engagement
While Avery sat in the quiet, mahogany-lined study in Lake Forest wrestling with an offer that would change her life forever, the other side of Dominic Moretti’s world was violently unraveling.
In a penthouse suite overlooking Central Park in Manhattan—rented courtesy of an emergency corporate expense account—Vanessa Whitmore paced across the imported Turkish rug like a caged animal. Her phone was pressed to her ear for the fourth consecutive time, listening to the monotonous ringtone buzz before dropping into voicemail.
“Pick up the phone, Dominic, you arrogant son of a bitch,” Vanessa hissed into the empty room, her nails digging into the plastic casing of her device.
The door to the suite clicked open.
A heavy-set man in an expensive gray suit stepped into the foyer, tossing his leather briefcase onto the glass coffee table. It was Richard Whitmore—Vanessa’s father, a senior partner at one of Chicago’s largest corporate law firms and a primary legal architect for several of Moretti’s offshore holdings.
Richard looked older today, his face grey with stress.
“Well?” Vanessa spun around, her eyes wide with frantic desperation. “Did you talk to him? Did you remind him of the merger contracts? Did you tell him how humiliating this is for our family?”
Richard walked slowly toward the bar cart, poured himself two fingers of scotch, and swallowed it in a single burning gulp. He didn't look at his daughter.
“Dad!” Vanessa screamed, stomping her foot. “Talk to me!”
“I talked to him, Vanessa,” Richard said, his voice dangerously quiet. He turned around, leaning back against the mahogany counter. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I defended our name!” she shrieked. “Some trashy delivery girl attacked me in our own home, and Dominic took her side! He threw me out like garbage over a spilled cake!”
“It wasn't just a spilled cake, and she wasn't just a delivery girl,” Richard snapped, slamming his glass down so hard the crystal cracked. “Do you know what Dominic sent me this morning via encrypted courier? A complete forensic audit of the household accounts for the last three years.”
Vanessa’s breath hitched. All the color drained from her face in a fraction of a second. “The… the accounts?”
“ embezzled funds from the charity gala budget, kickbacks from the estate renovation contractors, and unauthorized wire transfers to shell accounts in the Caymans,” Richard recited, his eyes cold with fury. “He didn't just break off the engagement because you humiliated a delivery driver, Vanessa. He broke it off because he found out you’ve been systematically stealing from him while pretending to be his loyal fiancée.”
Vanessa stumbled backward, her knees hitting the edge of the velvet sofa as she collapsed onto the cushions. “He can’t… he can’t prove that. Those files were encrypted—!”
“They were encrypted by a second-rate amateur whom Dominic’s cyber-security team dismantled in twenty minutes,” Richard cut her off, his voice flat and brutal. “Moretti Logistics is cutting ties with our firm as of this afternoon. Half of our corporate clients have already received anonymous notices terminating our retainers. We are financially ruined, Vanessa. Within forty-eight hours, our assets will be frozen by federal investigators acting on tips that Dominic Moretti casually dropped into the hands of the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
Vanessa stared up at her father, the magnitude of what she had triggered finally crashing down upon her. She hadn't just lost a billionaire fiancé; she had declared war on a man who owned the city, all because she couldn't resist the petty thrill of kicking someone who was already on the floor.
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“What are we going to do?” Vanessa whispered, tears finally spilling over her cheeks, ruining her expensive mascara.
“We aren't going to do anything,” Richard said, turning his back on her and walking toward the private elevator. “You are going to pack your bags, leave the country, and pray to whatever god you still believe in that Dominic Moretti decides you aren't worth the cost of a bullet.”
