All Chapters of Beyond the Moretti Fortune: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The next morning, I returned to the Moretti estate to pack.Three years of my life filled only two suitcases.I had just wrapped Nora’s photograph when the door opened. Bianca entered with my mother, followed by my father, Uncle Enzo, and several relatives.They gathered around my luggage as if they already knew how this performance would end.“She’s really packing,” Uncle Enzo said.Bianca smiled. “Let her finish. She’s waiting for someone to stop her.”A few relatives laughed.I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. Inside lay a dust-covered petition to amend my birth record and change my name.When I first returned, I had practiced writing Claire Moretti until my hand cramped.My mother had sat beside me and held my hand.“Once your father and I complete the public acknowledgment, we’ll file everything together.”I had been too happy to sleep that night.Then Bianca cried.“Why is Claire in such a hurry? First she wants the name. What will she ask for next?”My father refused to sign

Before leaving Greyhaven, I shipped one final box to the Moretti estate. It contained the birthday gifts my parents had given me, several unopened cosmetics, and the formal portrait that had never reached the living-room wall.The portrait had been taken during my first year with them. The photographer told me my parents wanted a picture of the daughter they had spent twenty years searching for, but while photographs of everyone else eventually covered the estate, mine remained in storage for three years.At the bottom of the box, I placed an account statement. After crediting the unpaid salary I should have received from the Moretti Foundation, I calculated that my parents had spent forty-eight thousand six hundred dollars on me, so I enclosed a repayment schedule for the remaining balance.The package arrived while my parents and several relatives were still waiting for me to return. Bianca opened it in front of them and held up the account statement with a laugh.“Another performanc

It was afternoon when I landed. Sunlight blazed off the pavement, and fine sand stung my face. A project vehicle waited outside.The colleague who met me took my luggage and offered me a bottle of water.“You look exhausted. Bad flight?”“Not too bad. I’m just not used to being this far from Greyhaven.”“You will be.” He opened the car door. “Conditions aren’t elegant, and the local rules are complicated, but the team is straightforward. If you need something, say so. Don’t carry everything alone.”I held the water without speaking. I had waited three years for that ordinary kindness at the Moretti estate. A stranger gave it to me within minutes of my arrival.Not long after we left the airport, an unknown number called. Expecting the closing attorney, I answered.My father’s voice came through at once.“Claire, this has gone far enough.”No greeting. No question about whether I had landed safely. In his mind, crossing thousands of miles was merely another tactic.“What do you need, si

That night, my father ordered the security team and the consigliere to reopen the hospital investigation.Most records from twenty years earlier were incomplete, but they found a retired nurse who remembered my adoptive father.“His wife had just given birth and was in poor condition,” she said. “But he kept wandering near the nursery. Around midnight, he asked which room held the Moretti baby.”My father’s voice tightened. “Why didn’t that alarm you?”“He said he was your driver and that you had asked him to check the child’s security. He wore a Moretti uniform and knew the names of the mother and the guards. How could I have imagined he meant to exchange two infants?”The next day, the team located a former freight partner. Afraid that the driver might one day silence him, the man had preserved a recording.My adoptive father’s drunken voice filled the room.“Moretti thought he was too good for me. Let him raise my daughter. His daughter is in my hands, and the life she gets depends

My parents did not leave immediately. They rented a place near the base, and my father made an unconditional grant from Moretti Holdings to the program’s community recovery fund.I received him as one of the project leads. When he handed me the commitment letter, hope made his expression almost cautious.I verified the terms and issued the receipt.“Thank you to Moretti Holdings for supporting the recovery fund.”His hand froze between us. “I didn’t do this so you would thank me.”“What response did you expect? Should one grant make me call you Dad again?”He said nothing.My mother brought food to the base each day. On the first day, minestrone. On the second, lasagna. On the third, chicken soup in an insulated container. She sat in my office and insisted on watching me eat.I opened it and divided the soup among colleagues working late.“Do you hate me that much?” she demanded. “I spend hours cooking, and you won’t taste a single bite. Must you watch us suffer before you’re satisfied