Chapter 4 - Following the Money
A man doesn't build an empire by acting on impulse. He builds it by gathering intelligence, cutting off his enemy’s retreat, and striking when the trap is fully sprung.
That night, while the estate slept under the watchful eyes of my armed guards, I met Silas in the underground tactical room hidden beneath the garage.
Silas tossed a thick, black leather folder onto the steel conference table.
“You were right, Boss,” Silas said, pulling up a series of financial charts on the main wall display. “Evelyn isn't just a narcissistic mother playing house. She’s drowned in debt.”
I leaned over the table, scanning the bank statements, court filings, and offshore wire transfers.
Outwardly, Evelyn presented herself as a wealthy lifestyle influencer and former upper-class socialite. In reality, her late husband had left her penniless six years ago, leaving behind a mountain of unpaid mortgages and fraudulent tax shelters.
“She owes two point four million dollars to an offshore private equity firm in Monaco,” Silas explained, tapping the screen. “And guess who owns that equity firm?”
I didn't need to guess. The logo on the top of the registration document was a stylized brass serpent.
“The Moretti Trust,” I said softly.
“Precisely,” Silas nodded. “Six months ago, before Isabella gave birth, Evelyn applied for a massive loan against her future inheritance—an inheritance that only exists if Isabella dies and passes the Moretti estate holdings to her son, with Evelyn as the court-appointed trustee.”
The final piece of the puzzle snapped into place.
Evelyn’s cruelty wasn't just born of narcissism and control. It was fueled by pure, unadulterated greed. She had calculated the value of her own daughter’s life, placed a price tag on her grandson’s future, and sold them both out to clear her debts.
“Who helped her get the drugs?” I asked.
“A disgraced pharmacist in Brooklyn named Miller,” Silas replied. “Our boys picked him up an hour ago. He confessed everything. Evelyn paid him fifteen thousand dollars in cash for the paralytics.”
“Where is Miller now?”
“Sleeping in room four downstairs,” Silas said without a flicker of emotion. “He won't be returning to work.”
I stood up, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored suit jacket. “Good. Now we find out who else she’s talking to.”
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“What are your orders, Boss?”
“Let her keep making the tea,” I said, a cold, ruthless smile touching my lips. “Dr. Vance will replace her poison supply with harmless sugar water tonight. Let Evelyn think her plan is working. Let her build her own gallows.”
