Chapter 2 - I Thought the Mafia Boss Had Destroyed My Dancing Career—Then His Wife Kidnapped My Mother and Revealed Why My Dead Partner Had Hidden Evidence Inside a MedalFor twelve years, I had blamed rain.
Then I blamed Walter Moretti.
Now I was standing inside the abandoned ballroom where I'd spent the happiest years of my life, holding a medal containing evidence that Walter's wife had ordered the crash that killed my best friend.
There are truths that clarify the past.
This one destroyed it.
I looked at Walter.
"Start from the beginning."
His jaw tightened.
Ethan said:
"She deserves the truth."
Walter looked at his son.
For once, he didn't argue.
Twelve years earlier, Vivian Cross—then Vivian Hale—had been a forensic accountant working for Moretti Holdings.
Walter had inherited a criminal organization from his father, but he'd been trying to move substantial portions into legitimate businesses.
Hotels.
Construction.
Shipping.
Real estate.
Vivian helped structure the transactions.
And apparently stole from them.
Millions.
She created shell companies inside redevelopment projects and redirected money through offshore accounts.
Daniel found the irregularities because his father owned a small engineering company subcontracted on one of Walter's projects.
Daniel wasn't investigating organized crime.
He was trying to understand why his father's company hadn't been paid.
He followed the money.
And found Vivian.
"Why didn't he go to police?" I asked.
Walter answered:
"He tried."
"What happened?"
"A detective on my payroll told me."
I stared.
Walter didn't apologize for that.
Maybe some men could change.
Walter Moretti wasn't there yet.
"I believed Daniel was trying to extort me."
"So you threatened him."
"Yes."
"Did you threaten me?"
"No."
"Did you have us followed?"
"Daniel. Not you."
My fists tightened.
"You helped create the circumstances that got him killed."
Walter looked at me.
"Yes."
At least he didn't hide from it.
"Vivian learned Daniel had evidence. She arranged the truck."
"How?"
"Through one of my lieutenants."
"And you married her?"
"Eight years later."
"Without knowing?"
"Without knowing."
Ethan paced away.
His father had spent years teaching him that ignorance was weakness.
Now Walter was admitting he'd shared his bed with his greatest blind spot.
"Why would Vivian marry you?" I asked.
"Protection."
Walter's voice was bitter.
"And access."
Ethan turned.
"She has access to everything."
"Not everything."
"Enough."
Walter nodded.
I thought about Vivian standing in the ballroom.
Elegant.
Smiling.
Competing against me.
Had she recognized me immediately?
Had she wondered whether Daniel told me anything?
Had she been terrified when I accepted Walter's challenge?
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered immediately.
"Mom?"
Silence.
Then Vivian Moretti's voice.
"Hello, Claire."
My blood froze.
Walter moved toward me.
I raised one hand.
"Where is my mother?"
"Safe."
"You touched her—"
"Careful."
Vivian's voice remained almost pleasant.
"I dislike threats."
I looked at Walter.
His face became lethal.
Vivian laughed softly.
"Is my husband there?"
I said nothing.
"He is."
She sounded amused.
"Walter, darling, I imagine this is embarrassing."
Walter held out his hand.
I put the phone on speaker.
"Vivian."
"Hello, sweetheart."
"Where is Margaret Bennett?"
"Somewhere quiet."
"If you hurt her—"
"That voice."
Vivian sighed.
"It's one of the things I liked about you initially."
"Initially?"
"Before I understood how sentimental you were."
Ethan stepped closer.
"What do you want?"
"Hello, Ethan."
His jaw tightened.
"What do you want?"
"The original memory card."
I looked at the medal.
Vivian continued.
"Bring it to the Lakeshore Grand Ballroom at midnight."
The same ballroom where Daniel and I had won our last championship.
Of course.
"Claire comes alone."
Walter said:
"No."
"Then her mother dies."
The call ended.
Walter immediately reached for the medal.
I closed my hand around it.
"No."
"Claire."
"It's mine."
"It's evidence."
"So make a copy."
"You are not going."
I stared.
Ethan closed his eyes.
"Dad."
Walter realized.
For once, he corrected himself.
"I don't want you to go."
"Better."
His face tightened.
"This isn't funny."
"I'm not laughing."
Ethan looked at me.
"We can involve federal authorities."
Walter's eyes snapped toward him.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because half the evidence implicates Moretti companies."
"That's your concern?"
"My concern is controlling the situation."
I laughed.
"Of course it is."
Walter looked at me.
"What would you suggest?"
"Police."
"No."
"FBI."
"Absolutely not."
"Then enjoy explaining to them why Margaret Bennett died while you protected your balance sheet."
Silence.
Ethan almost smiled.
Walter didn't.
But something changed.
"Fine."
That single word probably cost him physically.
The FBI had been investigating Moretti financial operations for years.
Agent Naomi Carter arrived ninety minutes later.
She was forty-something, calm, direct, and unimpressed by Walter.
I liked her immediately.
"Mr. Moretti."
"Agent Carter."
"You look disappointed."
"I generally am when federal agents enter my buildings."
"Good."
She looked at me.
"Ms. Bennett, tell me everything."
I did.
For the first time that night, someone listened without interrupting.
The plan was simple.
Which meant it would probably fail.
I would enter the ballroom carrying the medal.
A transmitter would be hidden beneath my clothing.
Agents would surround the building.
Walter and Ethan would remain outside.
Walter objected.
Carter ignored him.
At 11:57 p.m., I stood outside the Lakeshore Grand Ballroom.
Twelve years earlier, Daniel and I had walked through those doors holding hands.
He'd been nervous.
I had teased him.
"You're undefeated," he'd said.
"We're undefeated."
"What if tonight is different?"
"Then we lose beautifully."
We hadn't lost.
We won.
Three hours later, Daniel gave me the medal.
Two days later, we crashed.
Now I entered alone.
The ballroom was dark except for lights around the dance floor.
My mother sat in a chair at the far end.
Alive.
"Mom."
"Claire!"
A man behind her tightened his grip.
Then Vivian appeared.
No red gown now.
Black pants.
White blouse.
Hair pulled back.
She looked like an executive arriving for a meeting.
"You came."
"You knew I would."
"Yes."
"Let her go."
"The medal."
I raised it.
"Mom first."
Vivian smiled.
"You really were magnificent tonight."
I stared.
"Was that supposed to flatter me?"
"No."
For the first time, something genuine entered her expression.
"Daniel used to talk about you."
My throat tightened.
"You knew him?"
"Not personally."
"Liar."
Her smile disappeared.
"He was persistent."
"He was twenty-four."
"He was dangerous."
"To your bank account."
"To everything."
She walked closer.
"Do you know how difficult it is for a woman to build power inside a world like Walter's?"
I laughed.
"Don't."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't what?"
"Turn murder into feminism."
Silence.
Even one of her armed men looked away.
"You killed Daniel because he found your theft."
"I protected what I'd built."
"You killed him."
"He wasn't supposed to die."
I stared.
Vivian's expression remained calm.
"The truck was supposed to frighten him."
"My leg was crushed."
"I know."
"My partner died."
"I know."
"And you married Walter."
"Eventually."
"Why?"
"Because Walter was powerful."
"Did you love him?"
Vivian considered.
"In my way."
That might have been the most frightening answer.
"Does he love you?"
"Yes."
"Then you don't know him very well."
Her expression hardened.
I continued.
"Walter loves power more."
Vivian slapped me.
Hard.
My head snapped sideways.
"Claire!" Mom shouted.
I tasted blood.
Then smiled.
Vivian frowned.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because you just confessed to everything while I'm wearing a microphone."
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
She reached beneath her jacket.
I dropped.
The ballroom windows exploded inward.
"FBI!"
Gunfire erupted.
I crawled toward Mom.
One of Vivian's men grabbed me.
Then someone hit him from behind.
Ethan.
"What are you doing here?"
"Apparently disobeying my father."
He pulled me up.
"Your mother's this way."
Agents flooded the ballroom.
Vivian ran.
Walter entered from another doorway.
Carter shouted:
"Moretti! Stay back!"
He ignored her.
Of course he did.
Vivian reached the dance floor.
Walter intercepted her.
For several seconds, husband and wife stood facing each other.
It was strangely intimate.
"You knew?" Vivian asked.
Walter nodded.
"For how long?"
"Three hours."
She laughed.
"Twelve years, Walter."
His face tightened.
"Twelve years I sat beside you."
"I know."
"Slept beside you."
"I know."
"Trusted you."
Vivian smiled sadly.
"That's your mistake."
Walter stepped closer.
"No."
He looked toward me.
"It was."
Vivian raised the gun.
Ethan shouted:
"Dad!"
Walter didn't move.
Vivian's finger tightened.
Then my mother did something none of us expected.
She grabbed a champagne bucket from a nearby table and threw it.
It struck Vivian's arm.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Walter tackled her.
Agents reached them.
Within seconds, Vivian was handcuffed.
My mother stared at the bucket.
"I've always hated that woman."
I started laughing.
Maybe shock.
Maybe relief.
Then Mom laughed too.
Ethan joined.
Even Agent Carter smiled.
Walter did not.
He stood watching federal agents lead his wife away.
His empire hadn't collapsed.
Something more personal had.
I understood that.
Later, paramedics examined Mom.
She had bruises but nothing serious.
I sat beside her.
Walter approached.
"Claire."
I looked up.
He seemed older.
"I owe you an apology."
"Several."
A faint expression almost became a smile.
"Yes."
He looked toward the employees gathering near the entrance.
Then surprised me.
Walter walked into the center of the ballroom.
The FBI.
His men.
Staff.
Everyone watched.
"My behavior tonight at Moretti Tower was disgraceful."
Ethan stared.
Walter continued.
"I humiliated Ms. Bennett because I believed her job made her safe to humiliate."
He looked at me.
"I was wrong."
Then toward the staff.
"I treated people who worked for me as if their dignity depended on my approval."
Silence.
"It doesn't."
Luis would have enjoyed hearing that.
Walter looked uncomfortable.
Good.
Growth should occasionally hurt.
Then he did something even stranger.
He approached me.
"Your job at Moretti Tower is available if you want it."
"No."
"Expected."
"And I'm not marrying Ethan because of a dance."
Ethan, standing nearby, said:
"Thank God. I was worried we'd have to explain that on invitations."
I laughed.
Walter looked at his son.
Then at me.
"No."
His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"I suspect if anything ever happens between you two, neither of you will care what I think."
Ethan and I looked at each other.
My face warmed.
Walter noticed.
Unfortunately.
"I see."
"Don't."
"I said nothing."
"You were thinking loudly."
For the first time, Walter Moretti laughed.
Then Agent Carter approached him.
"Mr. Moretti."
Walter sighed.
"Now what?"
"We need to discuss your companies."
His laughter disappeared.
I smiled.
"Have fun."
Walter looked at me.
"This is somehow your fault."
"No."
I pointed toward the ballroom.
"But perhaps tonight you'll finally learn something."
"What?"
"Sometimes the consequences come after the music stops."
I walked away.
Ethan followed.
Outside, Chicago was beginning to brighten.
I looked toward him.
"What happens to your father?"
"Depends what investigators find."
"And you?"
"I'm resigning from Moretti Holdings."
I stopped.
"What?"
"I've wanted out for years."
"Why didn't you leave?"
He looked toward the building.
"Same reason you stopped dancing."
That hit harder than expected.
"Fear?"
"Partly."
He looked at me.
"Sometimes when a life has been built around you long enough, you start confusing familiarity with choice."
I understood that perfectly.
Ethan extended his hand.
"Coffee?"
"It's five in the morning."
"Breakfast?"
"I'm exhausted."
"Tomorrow?"
I studied him.
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"No."
He paused.
"Yes."
I smiled.
"Ask again when your father isn't under federal questioning and your stepmother isn't being booked for murder."
"Fair."
I started walking.
"Claire?"
I turned.
Ethan smiled.
"You were incredible tonight."
"The FBI did most of it."
"I meant the dancing."
I looked back toward the ballroom.
For twelve years, the thought of dancing had made something inside me ache.
Now something else appeared beside the pain.
Possibility.
"Maybe I wasn't finished."
Ethan smiled.
"No."
He said it softly.
May you like
"Maybe you were just interrupted."
And for the first time in twelve years, I believed that might be true.
