Chapter 11 - The Phantom Asset|
Three weeks later, the crisp October air had turned into the bitter frost of early November.
The Moretti estate was busier than it had been in a decade. Contractors were renovating the east wing, converting old guest rooms into a sprawling private suite for Maria and a bright, sunlit playroom for Emma.
Vincent sat in his study, reviewing the legal transfer documents provided by his attorneys.
Marco’s assets in New York—worth an estimated forty-two million dollars—had been successfully liquidated and placed into an irrevocable trust for Emma Carter, managed exclusively by a neutral board of trustees.
As Vincent signed his name on the final page of the trust agreement, his private satellite phone began to ring on his desk.
The caller ID showed an encrypted international number originating from Southern France.
Vincent picked up the receiver, his thumb hovering over the record button.
"Speak," Vincent commanded flatly.
"Vincent..." Marco's raspy, exhausted voice came through the speaker, accompanied by the background noise of heavy rain and harbor winds. "I'm in Marseille."
"I know," Vincent replied coldly. "My men confirmed your arrival six hours ago."
"Vincent... you need to listen to me very carefully," Marco stammered, his voice laced with genuine, breathless terror. "I didn't forge those financial documents alone."
Vincent went rigidly still. "What are you talking about?"
"The poison... the white bottle in father's safe," Marco whispered desperately over the crackling line. "I didn't put it in the safe fifteen years ago. Father didn't put it there either."
May you like
Vincent’s brow furrowed. "Explain."
"Father's old physician... Dr. Mercer," Marco revealed. "He didn't make that poison for Father. He made it for someone else. Someone who paid him five million dollars in 2008 to ensure Father died of a 'heart attack' when he turned sixty."
