CHAPTER 2 – The Father Who Never Forgave
The storage room remained silent except for Sophia's uneven breathing.
Her leg burned with every heartbeat.
Her phone battery showed 12%.
Then another voice came through the speaker.
"Miss Moretti?"
Sophia frowned.
"I'm Luca Romano. Your father's chief of security."
Behind him she heard engines.
Lots of them.
"We'll reach you in six minutes."
Upstairs, heavy footsteps crossed the marble floor.
Alexander.
The storage room door rattled.
"You calling people?" he shouted.
Sophia didn't answer.
Another kick hit the steel door.
"You think anyone is coming for you?"
She smiled through the pain.
"I know they are."
Alexander laughed.
"The only people who care about you are fashion bloggers."
He walked away.
Exactly five minutes later...
The lights inside the penthouse went out.
Every single one.
Alexander frowned.
"What the hell?"
Outside the thirty-eighth-floor windows...
Black SUVs surrounded the building entrance.
Not two.
Not five.
Nearly twenty.
The concierge hurried toward them before stopping completely.
The first SUV door opened.
An older man stepped out wearing a charcoal overcoat.
Silver hair.
Cold blue eyes.
No bodyguard umbrella despite the rain.
Every guard around him stood straighter.
The concierge recognized him instantly.
Vincent Moretti.
New York's invisible billionaire.
The man newspapers called "the investor who never loses."
The man politicians denied knowing.
Until they needed him.
Inside the lobby, security rushed forward.
"Sir, residents need authorization—"
Vincent handed over one photograph.
Sophia.
"My daughter is inside."
His voice remained calm.
"Move."
Nobody argued.
Upstairs...
Alexander poured himself another drink.
"I don't care if she screams all night."
Clara looked nervous.
"What if she dies?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Broken leg."
"People survive those."
The penthouse elevator dinged.
Alexander frowned.
"We're not expecting anyone."
Then another ding.
The service elevator.
Then another.
Emergency stairs.
Doors opening.
Footsteps.
Many footsteps.
His phone buzzed.
Security.
UNKNOWN PERSONS HAVE TAKEN CONTROL OF THE BUILDING.
"What?"
Before he finished reading...
BOOM.
The front door exploded inward.
Not from explosives.
From a hydraulic battering ram.
Men in black suits entered with military precision.
No shouting.
No panic.
Just efficiency.
Alexander grabbed a fireplace poker.
"Who the hell are you?"
The tallest man answered.
"Move."
Alexander swung.
The poker never connected.
Three seconds later...
He was face-down on his own marble floor with his wrist twisted behind his back.
Clara screamed.
One of the guards calmly took away her phone.
Then everyone stepped aside.
Vincent Moretti entered.
He looked around the penthouse once.
His eyes stopped on the blood across the marble.
Coffee.
Hair.
A broken necklace clasp.
His expression never changed.
"Where is she?"
Nobody answered.
Vincent looked at Alexander.
"You have exactly one opportunity."
Alexander laughed despite the pain.
"This is my home."
Vincent nodded once.
"No."
"It was."
The storage room lock clicked.
Sophia expected Alexander.
Instead...
The door slowly opened.
Light flooded inside.
A man she had seen only in old photographs stood there.
Older.
Stronger somehow.
His expensive coat hit the dusty floor before he even noticed.
He dropped to one knee.
Saw her leg.
Saw the bruises around her wrist.
Saw fingerprints already turning purple.
For the first time in decades...
Vincent Moretti looked afraid.
"Sophia..."
She managed a tired smile.
"You took your time."
May you like
He carefully lifted her into his arms.
"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for these six minutes."
