Chapter 6 - DAWN OVER WESTON
The sun was just beginning to crest over the Atlantic horizon when the black Maybach rolled back through the wrought-iron gates of Graystone Manor.
The estate looked entirely different in the pale, golden light of dawn. The gothic stone arches, the manicured lawns, and the towering oak trees no longer felt like a cold mausoleum built on lies and intimidation. They felt clean. Reset.
I stepped out of the car, breathing in the crisp autumn air scented with salt water and pine.
Beatrice Vance was waiting for me on the grand stone terrace, wrapped in a warm wool shawl, holding a fresh cup of coffee. As I walked up the steps, she studied my face, looking for any trace of exhaustion or lingering rage.
"Is it done?" she asked quietly.
"Dominic is in federal custody," I said, unbuttoning my suit jacket as I walked onto the terrace. "His assets have been frozen, his shares have been seized, and his network has been dismantled. As for your daughter... she’s currently in a holding facility in Suffolk County, facing charges of grand larceny, identity fraud, and corporate espionage. No bail."
Beatrice closed her eyes for a long moment, letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding for three years. A single tear slipped down her weathered cheek, but she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand.
"Thank you, Gabriel," she whispered. "Not just for the money... but for making her face the truth. I enabled her for too long. I let her run away from who we were because I wanted her to have a better life. But a life built on lies is just a prison with a better view."
"She made her choices," I said, leaning against the stone balustrade, looking out over the sprawling lawn where Elena—our young maid, bandaged and resting comfortably in the private wing—would soon be waking up to a completely transformed life.
"What happens now?" Beatrice asked, looking over at me. "You've dismantled your wedding, exposed your cousin, and purged half your executive board in less than twelve hours. You're the most feared man in Boston right now."
I let out a low, quiet chuckle—the first genuine laugh I had given in years.
"Good," I said, turning my gaze toward the horizon as the golden morning light washed over the Atlantic. "Fear is efficient. But from now on, the House of Moretti is going to be built on something much stronger than fear."
May you like
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the black titanium ring that Camille had chosen in Newport, and tossed it off the edge of the cliff, watching it arc through the air before disappearing forever into the dark, churning waves below.
"Truth," I said. "And nothing less."
