Chapter 6 - The Siege of Geneva
By 4:00 a.m., the storm outside had reached its peak, locking the Moretti estate in a wall of blinding white snow.
Inside the house, the atmosphere had shifted from chaotic shock to military preparation.
Adrian sat in his private study with Marcus and two senior corporate attorneys who had been summoned from their homes by private escort. On the large mahogany desk lay three satellite phones, a series of international corporate filings, and the direct line to the Swiss Federal Police in Geneva.
Claire stood near the arched window, holding a fresh mug of tea, watching the snow pile against the glass.
Ethan was still sleeping in the adjoining lounge, guarded by one of Marcus’s most trusted men.
"The title deeds in Geneva are secured under Swiss Federal Trust Law," the lead attorney, a silver-haired man named Harrison, explained, sliding a tablet across the desk to Adrian. "If Sophia registered those original 1994 lease agreements under her maiden name, Vance, they are subject to an automatic probate audit upon her death. Vanessa couldn't destroy them from Chicago—which is why she’s been trying to file a fraudulent power of attorney claiming Ethan is incapacitated."
Adrian looked at the screen. "Has the claim been filed?"
"It was submitted to the Zurich probate court three days ago," Harrison replied. "Using a psychological evaluation signed by Dr. Robert Sterling—Ethan’s former private psychiatrist."
Claire turned around from the window, her hazel eyes sharp. "Dr. Sterling? He’s the one who recommended isolating Ethan from his school friends."
"He was on Vanessa’s payroll," Marcus added from the corner of the room. "We pulled his bank records an hour ago. He received two hundred thousand dollars from a shell company in Panama three weeks after Sophia’s funeral."
Adrian’s jaw set into an iron line. "Cancel Sterling’s medical license by morning. Have him picked up by state police for falsifying medical records on a minor."
"And Vanessa?" Harrison asked cautiously.
Adrian leaned back in his leather chair, his grey eyes extremely cold. "Vanessa is currently sitting in her suite upstairs. At 8:00 a.m., when the banks open in Zurich, my legal team will present Sophia’s original silver seal and the letter to the Swiss magistrate. The probate court will freeze all secondary trust accounts managed by Vanessa."
He looked toward Claire.
"And then," Adrian continued softly, "we strip her of every asset, every title, and every dollar she ever took from this family, and hand her over to the federal prosecutor for conspiracy to commit murder."
Claire took a slow breath, feeling the heavy, decisive weight of his words. This was the justice Sophia had planned—not a quiet assassination in a dark alley, but the total, public dismantling of the woman who had tried to steal her son’s future.
Suddenly, the heavy door of the study opened.
A young security guard stepped into the room, looking panicked. "Boss... we have a problem in the west wing."
Adrian stood up instantly. "What happened?"
"It’s Miss Vanessa, sir," the guard stammered. "She... she wasn't in her bedroom. She used the service elevator down to the basement garage ten minutes ago."
Marcus reached for his belt, pulling his weapon. "The garage is locked down! How did she get past the gate?"
"She didn't use the gate, sir," the guard said, his voice trembling. "She took the tunnel to the old boat house on the lake."
Claire’s heart dropped. "The boat house?"
"It’s where the family keeps the winter maintenance vehicles," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a terrifying register. "Including the snowcats."
He didn't wait another second. Adrian grabbed his heavy wool coat from the rack near the door, pulled a black tactical sidearm from his desk drawer, and strode out of the study with Marcus and three guards right behind him.
Claire didn't hesitate. She ran down the hallway toward the lounge, checking on Ethan first. The boy was still sleeping soundly under his blanket, guarded by a heavy-set guard named Leo.
"Keep the door locked, Leo," Claire ordered, her voice leave no room for argument. "Don't let anyone in except Adrian or me."
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"Yes, ma'am," the guard said, drawing his weapon and stepping inside the room.
Claire turned around and ran down the service stairs, following the sound of Adrian’s heavy boots echoing down the cold stone corridor leading to the underground lakefront tunnel.
