“Why Did You Fire My Mom?” — What the Little Girl Said Next Left the Mafia Boss Stunned! PART 2
The phone remained against Dominic Moretti’s ear.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
The woman from the laboratory repeated herself.
“Mr. Moretti, the second match is only partial. It could be a relative. We need additional testing before we can identify the relationship.”
Dominic stared at Lily’s photograph.
A five-year-old girl.
Blonde hair.
Ice-blue eyes.
A tiny crease between her eyebrows whenever she was worried.
His daughter.
His jaw tightened.
“Send me everything.”
“Of course.”
“And don’t tell anyone.”
There was a pause.
“Understood.”
Dominic ended the call.
For the first time in years, the walls of the Moretti mansion felt too small.
He walked toward the window.
Outside, the winter morning covered the gardens in silver frost.
Everything looked exactly as it always had.
The fountains.
The stone statues.
The black iron gates.
The guards stationed around the property.
His empire was intact.
His money was intact.
His power was intact.
But something had changed.
His daughter was five years old.
And someone had kept her from him.
Dominic picked up his phone again.
“Ricardo.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want every employee record from six years ago.”
“Everyone?”
“Everyone.”
A pause.
“Sir, that’s thousands of records.”
“Then start reading.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Ricardo?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t ask why.”
The call ended.
Dominic turned toward the portrait of his grandfather.
For generations, the Moretti men had believed one thing above all else.
Family came first.
Dominic had spent his entire life believing he understood what that meant.
Now a little girl had forced him to understand it.
Family wasn’t a name.
It wasn’t an empire.
It wasn’t bloodline written in a family book.
Family was a five-year-old child who had walked across New York because she thought her mother was hurting.
Dominic looked down at the photograph again.
“I missed everything,” he whispered.
Then he remembered something.
Lily had said Sophia kept a photograph.
Of him.
A photograph she had never destroyed.
Dominic immediately returned to Brooklyn.
Sophia opened the door.
She looked surprised to see him.
“You came back.”
“I said I would.”
She stepped aside.
Dominic entered.
Lily was sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal.
The moment she saw him, her face brightened.
“Mister!”
Dominic stopped.
“Mister?”
Lily nodded.
“You came back.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him carefully.
“Did you bring Mama her job?”
Dominic almost smiled.
“Not yet.”
Lily frowned.
“You should hurry.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Lily…”
“What?”
“Eat your breakfast.”
Lily picked up her spoon.
Dominic sat across from her.
He had spent his entire life surrounded by people who feared him.
This child didn’t.
She looked at him with simple curiosity.
“Do you have kids?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Not that I knew about.”
Lily giggled.
Sophia looked away.
Dominic noticed.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sophia stiffened.
“What?”
“Why did you keep my photograph?”
Her eyes immediately met his.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“How do you know?”
“Lily told me.”
Sophia looked toward her daughter.
Lily continued eating as if she hadn’t just betrayed her mother’s six-year secret.
Sophia sighed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She didn’t answer.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“Sophia, I need to know everything.”
“You know enough.”
“No.”
He placed the DNA report on the table.
“This isn’t enough.”
Sophia stared at it.
Then she looked at him.
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out who intercepted your letters.”
Her expression changed.
“Dominic…”
“Someone knew about you.”
She didn’t respond.
“Someone knew you were pregnant.”
Silence.
“Someone knew where you lived.”
Still silence.
“Someone made sure I never found out.”
Sophia’s hands tightened around her coffee cup.
“Why does it matter now?”
“Because she’s my daughter.”
Sophia looked toward Lily.
“And what does that mean?”
Dominic followed her gaze.
“It means I missed five years.”
Sophia’s expression softened for only a moment.
Then she looked away.
“You weren’t there.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t call.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t look for us.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to fix five years in five minutes.”
Dominic lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
Sophia looked at him.
That answer surprised her.
He wasn’t defending himself.
He wasn’t making excuses.
For the first time, Dominic Moretti was simply accepting the damage he had caused.
“I can’t give you those years back,” he said.
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“But I can make sure I don’t lose another day.”
She didn’t answer.
From the bedroom, Lily appeared holding her stuffed rabbit.
“Mama?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can I show him?”
Sophia frowned.
“Show him what?”
Lily smiled.
“The picture.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Lily…”
The little girl ran back into the bedroom.
A moment later she returned holding a small wooden box.
She placed it on the table.
Dominic stared.
Sophia’s face had gone pale.
“Lily, put that away.”
“But you said I could.”
“When?”
“Last Christmas.”
Sophia stopped.
Dominic looked at her.
“What is inside?”
Sophia didn’t answer.
Lily opened the box.
Inside was an old photograph.
Dominic reached for it.
Then stopped.
He recognized the image immediately.
It was him.
Six years younger.
Standing beside Sophia.
She was laughing.
His arm was around her waist.
They looked happy.
Really happy.
Dominic stared at the photograph.
“I thought you hated me.”
Sophia looked down.
“I did.”
“Then why keep this?”
“Because Lily asked me who her father was.”
Dominic’s throat tightened.
“What did you tell her?”
“That he was someone I loved.”
He looked at her.
“And?”
“That sometimes loving someone doesn’t mean they stay.”
Dominic couldn’t speak.
Lily climbed onto the chair beside him.
“That’s you.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Yes.”
She tilted her head.
“You look younger.”
“I was.”
“Were you happy?”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
Then at Sophia.
“Yes.”
Lily smiled.
“Mama was happy too.”
Sophia turned away.
Dominic carefully placed the photograph back into the box.
Then he noticed something underneath it.
A folded piece of paper.
He pulled it out.
Sophia immediately reached for it.
“Don’t.”
Dominic stopped.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at her.
“Sophia.”
She hesitated.
Then slowly pulled the paper from his hand.
“It was the first letter I wrote you.”
“The one you said you sent?”
“Yes.”
“Why is it here?”
Sophia stared at him.
“Because it came back.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“What?”
“It was returned.”
“When?”
“Three days after I mailed it.”
“Why?”
Sophia handed it to him.
Across the front was a red stamp.
RETURN TO SENDER. ADDRESS UNKNOWN.
Dominic stared.
“That address was correct.”
“I know.”
“Who returned it?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
He turned the envelope over.
There was something written on the back.
A handwritten number.
47.
He looked at Sophia.
“What does this mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic took a photograph of it.
Then another.
He sent it to his security chief.
“Find out what this number means.”
The reply came less than a minute later.
Working on it.
Dominic looked toward Lily.
She was playing with her rabbit.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
Sir, we found something.
Dominic stepped into the hallway.
“Talk.”
The number 47 appears in an old internal access log.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
Moretti Holdings. Manhattan office. Six years ago.
“Whose access code?”
A pause.
Then the answer appeared.
Your executive assistant’s.
Dominic froze.
His executive assistant six years ago.
A man named Vincent Hale.
Vincent had worked for the Moretti family for seventeen years.
He had been there when Dominic’s father died.
He had been there when Dominic took control.
He had been there through every major transition.
Dominic had trusted him.
More importantly—
Vincent had had access to everything.
Emails.
Phone records.
Private correspondence.
Office schedules.
Family files.
Dominic stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
There’s more.
He waited.
The same access code was used to delete twelve incoming messages from Sophia Carter’s contact information.
Dominic’s blood went cold.
“Twelve.”
He whispered the word.
Twelve messages.
Twelve opportunities to know.
Twelve times someone had decided he would remain ignorant.
Dominic called immediately.
“Where is Vincent?”
His security chief answered.
“He left the city three days ago.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
“Unknown.”
“Find him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alive.”
A pause.
“Sir?”
“I want him alive.”
Dominic ended the call.
Then he returned to the kitchen.
Sophia was standing beside Lily.
She looked at Dominic’s face.
“What happened?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said:
“I think I know who stopped your letters.”
Sophia went still.
“Who?”
“Someone who worked for me.”
Her eyes widened.
“Who?”
“Vincent Hale.”
Sophia’s face changed.
She recognized the name.
“He used to be your assistant.”
“Yes.”
“He was always polite.”
“That’s what made him useful.”
Dominic turned toward Lily.
The little girl was drawing on a sheet of paper.
“What is she drawing?”
Sophia looked.
“A family.”
Dominic walked closer.
On the paper were three figures.
Sophia.
Lily.
And Dominic.
But there was something strange.
A fourth figure had been drawn behind them.
A tall man.
His face was scribbled over in black.
Dominic crouched beside Lily.
“Who’s that?”
Lily looked at the drawing.
Then she whispered:
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you draw him?”
“Because Mama says I shouldn’t talk about him.”
Dominic looked at Sophia.
She had gone completely pale.
“Sophia.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know who she means.”
Lily looked up.
“Yes, you do.”
Sophia froze.
Lily continued innocently.
“The man who used to come to our house.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“What man?”
Sophia immediately knelt.
“Lily, sweetheart, stop.”
“But Mama—”
“Stop.”
The little girl became quiet.
Dominic looked at Sophia.
“Who came here?”
“No one.”
“Lily says someone came.”
“She was five—”
“She is five.”
Sophia’s eyes filled with tears.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“Who came here?”
Sophia looked toward the window.
“I don’t know his name.”
“But you’ve seen him?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Before Lily was born.”
“And after?”
Sophia hesitated.
“Once.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Dominic’s entire body became still.
“What did he want?”
Sophia swallowed.
“He asked about Lily.”
“Why?”
“He said you were dangerous.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened.
“What exactly did he say?”
Sophia whispered:
“He told me that if you ever found out about her, she would never be safe.”
Silence.
Dominic looked at Lily.
The child was watching them.
He stood slowly.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall. Gray hair. Expensive coat.”
Dominic’s mind raced.
Then Sophia added:
“He had a scar.”
Dominic stopped.
“Where?”
“Along his left cheek.”
Dominic knew only one man in his organization with that description.
A man he hadn’t seen in years.
A man everyone believed had disappeared.
His uncle’s former adviser.
Marco Moretti.
Dominic’s own family.
He took out his phone.
“Ricardo.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Open the old family archives.”
“Which section?”
“Marco Moretti.”
There was silence.
Then Ricardo answered carefully.
“Sir…”
“What?”
“Marco Moretti died six years ago.”
Dominic looked at Sophia.
She was staring at him.
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
Dominic’s voice became ice-cold.
“Because someone just told me he was alive.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Lily quietly tugged Dominic’s sleeve.
He looked down.
She held up her drawing.
“Daddy?”
Dominic froze.
Sophia froze.
Lily looked between them.
“I heard Mama call you Dominic.”
Her little fingers tightened around the paper.
“So…”
She smiled shyly.
“Can I call you Daddy?”
Dominic’s eyes filled before he could stop them.
He had faced death without fear.
He had watched enemies collapse in front of him.
He had never cried.
But standing in that tiny Brooklyn kitchen, hearing his daughter ask a simple question, he couldn’t find a single word.
He slowly lowered himself to one knee.
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“If you want to.”
Lily smiled.
Then she threw her arms around his neck.
Dominic closed his eyes.
He held his daughter for the first time.
And somewhere far across New York, a phone rang.
A man answered.
“He knows.”
Silence.
Then the man’s voice came back.
“Does he know about the letters?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“And the girl?”
“He knows she’s his.”
The man breathed slowly.
“Then it’s time.”
The caller looked toward the window.
“Time for what?”
The answer came quietly.
“To finish what we started six years ago.”
TO BE CONTINUED — PART 3
