Chapter 15 - The Price Of Choosing Family
The flames consumed the document slowly.
Not quickly.
Not dramatically.
Just slowly enough for my grandmother to watch everything she built disappear.
The paper curled.
The ink faded.
The name Moretti remained for a few seconds longer than everything else.
Then it turned black.
My grandmother stared at the fire.
For the first time in my life, I saw something I never thought I would see.
Uncertainty.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something worse.
She did not understand me anymore.
For six years, she had predicted every decision I would make.
She knew my anger.
My ambition.
My need for control.
She believed she created me.
And maybe she was right.
Maybe she had shaped every scar.
Every loss.
Every moment that forced me to become harder.
But she forgot one thing.
People are not only created by pain.
They are also changed by the people who refuse to let them lose themselves.
I looked at Ewan.
My brother.
The person she tried to remove because he reminded me I was still human.
Then I looked at my mother.
The woman who spent four years trapped because she refused to reveal the truth.
Then Delia.
The woman who protected my family while my own family destroyed itself.
And finally Celeste.
The woman who entered my life with a mission.
But somewhere along the way, became someone who tried to save me.
My grandmother followed my eyes.
And she understood.
“You chose them.”
Her voice was almost disappointed.
“Yes.”
“Even after everything they cost you?”
I looked at her.
“They are not what cost me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Then what did?”
I answered quietly.
“Believing you.”
The room went silent.
---
My grandmother stood.
“You think this ends here?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A small smile appeared.
“Because you are finally thinking like a Moretti.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She stopped.
“I am thinking like someone who does not want to become you.”
For the first time, her expression hardened.
“You will regret this.”
“Maybe.”
“You will lose power.”
“Maybe.”
“You will lose people.”
I looked at her.
“I already did.”
That answer surprised her.
Because she understood something.
She had spent years teaching me that losing people was the price of power.
But I had learned something different.
Power was not worth losing everyone.
---
The first attack came before sunrise.
Not from outside.
From inside.
The estate security system went dark.
The same way it had before.
The same method.
The same signature.
Adrian Voss.
“Boss.”
Matteo entered quickly.
“Movement near the east gate.”
“How many?”
“Unknown.”
I looked at my grandmother.
She did not look surprised.
That was the problem.
“You planned this.”
She smiled.
“No.”
“Then why are you calm?”
“Because I know what happens next.”
I stepped closer.
“What?”
“You will realize that choosing family has a price.”
A gunshot echoed outside.
Everyone moved.
Security rushed toward the windows.
Ewan grabbed my arm.
“Gabriel.”
I looked at him.
“This is what she wanted.”
“What?”
“She wanted you to choose us.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because then she knows where your weakness is.”
I looked outside.
The lights around the estate flickered.
A vehicle stopped near the entrance.
Then another.
Then another.
They were not attacking randomly.
They were surrounding us.
A message appeared on every screen.
Not from Adrian.
Not from my grandmother.
From someone else.
Someone I did not know.
But the name appeared clearly.
THE VANDERMARK FAMILY.
Celeste froze.
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
She looked terrified.
“My father.”
The room became silent.
“Your father is here?”
She nodded.
“He was never working for Adrian.”
“Then who was he working for?”
Celeste looked at my grandmother.
My grandmother smiled.
And suddenly I understood.
This was bigger than one person.
Bigger than one family.
My grandmother had not built an empire.
She had built a system.
People did not serve her because they loved her.
They served her because they were trapped.
---
The front doors opened.
A man entered.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
Calm expression.
I recognized him immediately.
Even though I had never met him.
Because he had the same eyes as Celeste.
Victor Vandermark.
Celeste’s father.
He looked around the room.
Then at me.
“Gabriel Moretti.”
I stood.
“Victor Vandermark.”
He smiled.
“So the stories were true.”
“What stories?”
“That you are the first Moretti in decades who is willing to destroy everything.”
I did not answer.
He looked at Celeste.
“Come here.”
She stayed where she was.
That surprised him.
“Celeste.”
“No.”
One word.
But it carried years of anger.
Victor’s expression changed.
“You have forgotten who protected you.”
“No.”
Celeste stepped forward.
“I remember exactly who I had to survive.”
The room became silent.
Victor looked at me.
“You see?”
He smiled.
“This is what happens when women are allowed to believe they have choices.”
My expression changed.
Because in that moment, I understood him.
He was exactly like my grandmother.
Different name.
Different family.
Same belief.
Control was love.
Fear was loyalty.
Ownership was protection.
I stepped between them.
“You are done.”
Victor laughed.
“You think you can stop this?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I looked around the room.
At my family.
At the people who had finally stopped hiding.
“Because for the first time…”
I paused.
“We are not fighting separately.”
Victor’s smile faded.
---
Then my grandmother spoke.
“Gabriel.”
Everyone turned.
She looked at me.
“You still do not understand.”
I stared.
“What?”
She smiled.
“Victor is not here to take control.”
A pause.
“He is here because he knows the final secret.”
The room went silent.
Victor looked at me.
And said:
“The person who ordered your brother’s death…”
He paused.
“The person who controlled Adrian…”
“The person who built this entire war…”
His eyes moved toward my grandmother.
Then back to me.
“Was not Margaret Moretti.”
My heartbeat changed.
“What?”
Victor’s voice became quiet.
“It was your father.”
Silence.
Again.
The same impossible name.
My father.
I looked at Ewan.
His face changed.
Because he knew.
He knew something.
“Ewan.”
My brother looked at me.
And this time…
He could not hide the truth.
“I found the last piece of evidence.”
My voice lowered.
“What evidence?”
Ewan looked at me.
“The recording from Pier 44.”
A pause.
“The recording of the person who gave the order.”
The room stopped.
“Who?”
Ewan closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
“Gabriel…”
May you like
“The voice on that recording…”
“Was yours.”
