CHAPTER 4 — THE NIGHT MY FATHER WAS MURDERED
The Moretti warehouse stood on the southern edge of Chicago.
Abandoned.
At least officially.
The building looked like something the city had forgotten.
Broken windows.
Rusting steel.
Graffiti across the loading docks.
But Dominic knew better.
He parked two blocks away.
“We walk from here.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if someone is watching the building, I don't want them seeing our vehicle.”
“You said this was your father's warehouse.”
“It was.”
“Then why abandon it?”
“Because he disappeared.”
We walked through the rain.
I kept one hand inside my jacket.
The memory card was there.
The Black Ledger.
The thing my father had died protecting.
Or so Dominic believed.
I wasn't sure what I believed anymore.
We reached the side entrance.
The lock had been cut.
Dominic crouched.
“Fresh.”
“How fresh?”
“Less than an hour.”
We entered.
The warehouse smelled like dust and metal.
Our footsteps echoed.
Dominic switched on a flashlight.
Rows of old equipment filled the room.
I looked around.
“This place hasn't been touched in years.”
“That's what everyone thinks.”
He walked toward the back wall.
I followed.
There was an old office.
Dominic opened the door.
Inside were boxes.
Dozens of them.
He opened the first.
Documents.
Bank statements.
Shipping records.
Photographs.
I picked up one.
My father.
I froze.
He was standing outside Northstar Industrial.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood Dominic's father.
Anthony Moretti.
Both men were smiling.
I stared at the photograph.
“My father knew your father.”
“Yes.”
“They worked together.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because both men disappeared within months of each other.”
I looked at him.
“My father died.”
Dominic shook his head.
“Officially.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
He pulled out a file.
“Your father's death certificate was filed three days after his supposed accident.”
“So?”
“Look at the signature.”
I did.
My stomach twisted.
“That isn't his signature.”
“No.”
“Who signed it?”
Dominic pointed to the bottom.
“Dr. Samuel Reeves.”
I stared at the name.
“Who is he?”
“A doctor who disappeared six years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because he testified that your father was alive after the accident.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Dominic opened another file.
Inside was a handwritten statement.
I read it.
Michael Carter was conscious when he arrived at the emergency facility.
He repeatedly asked for his daughter.
He told me someone was trying to kill him.
He survived for six hours.
I couldn't breathe.
Six hours.
My father had survived.
For six hours.
And nobody told me.
I looked at Dominic.
“Why?”
“Because someone stopped the official report.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
I kept reading.
The next sentence made my hands tremble.
Before his condition deteriorated, Michael Carter gave me a black envelope and said, “If they reach my daughter, give her the key.”
I looked at the key in my hand.
“He knew.”
Dominic nodded.
“He knew you would eventually be targeted.”
I sat down.
Eight years.
Eight years believing my father died instantly.
Eight years believing there was nothing I could have done.
Eight years of wondering if he suffered.
Now I knew.
He had been alive.
He had been conscious.
He had asked for me.
And someone had prevented me from seeing him.
I closed my eyes.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Dominic didn't touch me.
He simply stood nearby.
Giving me space.
I appreciated that.
After a moment, I asked:
“Who killed him?”
Dominic looked at the documents.
“We don't know.”
“Then find out.”
“I will.”
“No.”
I stood.
“We will.”
He looked at me.
I wiped my face.
“My father spent his last six hours trying to protect me.”
I held up the key.
“I'm not letting him die for nothing.”
We searched the office.
Behind an old cabinet, we found a metal door.
Dominic examined it.
“Electronic lock.”
I held up the black key.
“Maybe this?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
I looked closer.
There was a circular symbol beside the keypad.
The same M.
I pressed the key against it.
Nothing happened.
Then Dominic touched the symbol.
A hidden light turned green.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
No furniture.
No windows.
Only a table.
On the table was a cassette recorder.
And a single envelope.
My name was written on it.
AVERY.
I reached for it.
Dominic stopped me.
“Wait.”
He checked the room.
No wires.
No explosives.
Nothing.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
I recognized my father's handwriting immediately.
My knees almost gave out.
I read.
Avery,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep you away from the people hunting me.
I need you to understand one thing.
I never abandoned you.
I never wanted to leave your mother.
And what happened at Northstar was not an accident.
My vision blurred.
I continued.
There are people inside powerful institutions who have been stealing money for years.
They use companies as shields.
They use innocent people as names.
And when someone gets close—
they erase them.
I looked at Dominic.
He was reading over my shoulder.
The next line made both of us freeze.
Anthony Moretti tried to help me.
Dominic whispered:
“My father.”
I kept reading.
If anything happens to me, do not trust anyone who claims they are helping you.
Especially someone who knows details about my death that I never told the public.
There is one person I believe may still be alive.
The page ended.
I turned it over.
One name was written on the back.
ANTHONY MORETTI.
Dominic stepped backward.
“No.”
“What?”
“My father died eight years ago.”
“So did mine.”
He looked at me.
“What if neither death was what we were told?”
Before he could answer, the cassette recorder clicked.
We both turned.
It started playing automatically.
Static.
Then my father's voice.
Weak.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
“Avery…”
I covered my mouth.
My father continued.
“If you're hearing this, they found you.”
Dominic stared at the recorder.
Michael's voice continued.
“Don't trust the man who says he wants to protect you.”
I looked at Dominic.
He didn't move.
My father's voice became quieter.
“The Moretti family isn't your enemy.”
I exhaled.
Then came the next sentence.
“But someone inside it is.”
The recording stopped.
Silence.
Dominic's phone rang.
He answered.
“What?”
His expression hardened.
“What do you mean she's gone?”
My heart dropped.
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“The safe house was breached.”
I grabbed his arm.
“Who took her?”
His eyes were cold now.
“Three men.”
“Where are they?”
“They left a message.”
“What message?”
Dominic showed me his phone.
A photograph had been sent.
It showed Linda sitting in a chair.
Alive.
Terrified.
And beside her—
a man whose face I had never seen.
But I recognized the ring on his hand.
A black ring.
With the same symbol.
The M.
Under the photograph were six words.
COME TO NORTHSTAR ALONE, AVERY.
My hands began to shake.
Dominic looked at me.
“You're not going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“They have my mother.”
“They want you alone.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Then they get me instead.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Avery.”
“This is my mother.”
“And you're not walking into a murder scene.”
I looked at him.
“You don't get to decide that.”
His expression hardened.
“I do if I intend to keep you alive.”
I stepped closer.
“And I don't need you to save me.”
Something changed in his eyes.
Not anger.
Something deeper.
“Maybe.”
He paused.
“But I need to know why your father trusted mine.”
I stared at him.
Then I picked up the black key.
“We go together.”
He looked at me.
“You just said—”
“I said I don't need you to save me.”
I slipped the key into my pocket.
“But I might need you beside me.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
We walked toward the exit.
Behind us, the cassette recorder suddenly clicked again.
We both stopped.
Static.
Then my father's voice whispered one final sentence.
A sentence neither of us had heard before.
“Dominic…”
We turned.
“If you're with my daughter…”
A pause.
“…then your father failed to tell you the truth too.”
The recording ended.
Dominic stared into the darkness.
I looked at him.
“What truth?”
He didn't answer.
Because at that exact moment, his phone received another message.
One sentence.
From an unknown number.
ASK DOMINIC WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS FATHER ON THE NIGHT MICHAEL CARTER DIED.
Dominic slowly lowered the phone.
May you like
And for the first time since I had met him—
the billionaire mafia boss looked afraid.
