Chapter 25
Over the following three weeks, Moretti Tower underwent an administrative purge that sent shockwaves through the Chicago business elite.
Under Claire’s direction and Vincent’s executive orders, forensic accountants and corporate compliance attorneys swept through every department like a scythe. Anyone who had maintained close ties to Julian’s old guard, anyone who had signed off on discretionary expenses without secondary verification, and anyone who had been hired through Sophia Carter’s acquisitions division was systematically investigated.
By the second week, forty-two mid- and senior-level executives had been quietly terminated with non-disclosure agreements.
Vincent worked eighteen-hour days. He arrived at the tower before dawn, his office lit only by the pale morning light reflecting off the Chicago River, and he rarely left before midnight. He threw himself into the operational restructuring with an almost manic intensity, reviewing balance sheets, meeting with institutional clients, and personally auditing every overseas vendor contract. He was a man possessed, desperate to drown his guilt and emotional devastation in a sea of corporate productivity.
Claire, meanwhile, established her own base of operations on the 49th floor—the executive suite directly above Vincent’s office.
She did not attend daily operational meetings, but every major capital expenditure, every executive promotion, and every public statement required her signature as the representative of the majority shareholder bloc. She moved through the building like an ethereal sovereign: elegant, composed, polite to the staff, but entirely unapproachable.
The employees whispered in the elevators. The legendary lobby scene—where Claire had dropped Vincent’s suitcases at the reception desk—had become corporate folklore. But the whispers were no longer mocked; they were filled with genuine fear and respect. Claire Bennett was no longer seen as the decorative socialite wife; she was the de facto ruler of Moretti Holdings.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, Vincent sat at his desk, staring at a thick red folder labeled Vanguard Asset Divestment. A knock sounded at the heavy glass door.
"Enter," Vincent said, without looking up from the spreadsheets.
Thomas Bennett, Claire’s younger brother and the managing trustee of the Bennett family capital fund, walked into the office. He closed the door behind him and took a seat across from Vincent, tossing an unlit cigar onto the desk.
"You look like hell, Vince," Thomas remarked bluntly, leaning back into the leather chair. "When was the last time you slept more than four hours?"
Vincent rubbed his bloodshot eyes, leaning back in his chair. "I sleep enough, Thomas. What can I do for you? If it’s about the Vanguard leasing counter-offer, Claire already signed off on the debt facility."
Thomas studied his brother-in-law for a long moment, his expression a mixture of grudging respect and lingering familial anger. "The Vanguard deal is solid. We closed the financing this morning. Sterling’s people surrendered unconditionally. They’re transferring the titles to the Midwest distribution hubs next Tuesday."
"Good," Vincent muttered, picking up his pen. "Then the supply chain is secured."
"I'm not here about the supply chain, Vincent," Thomas said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm here about my sister."
Vincent’s hand froze above the paper. He slowly set the pen down, meeting Thomas’s piercing blue eyes—the same shade as Claire’s, but colder, lacking her warmth.
"Claire and I have an arrangement," Vincent said cautiously.
"An arrangement?" Thomas scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "You call living like ghosts in a ten-million-dollar penthouse an arrangement? Claire is spending seventy hours a week reviewing audit logs, and you're running yourself into an early grave just to prove you're not your father. The Bennett family board is getting nervous, Vince."
"The stock is up twelve percent since the purge," Vincent retorted sharply. "Your family trust has gained nearly two hundred million in paper wealth in three weeks. What does the board have to be nervous about?"
"They're nervous about stability," Thomas said flatly. "A marriage of convenience between two executives is fine for a quarter or two. But if this cold war turns into a messy public divorce six months from now, the valuation takes a hit. My father wants to know if you two are going to make this work, or if we need to start preparing the formal asset-split documents."
Vincent felt a sharp, suffocating knot tighten in his gut. The thought of a formal divorce—of permanently severing the tie that bound him to Claire—felt like a physical blow.
"I am not divorcing Claire," Vincent stated, every word etched in steel. "I love your sister, Thomas. I made an unforgivable mistake, but I will spend the rest of my life making amends if that’s what it takes. I will not sign divorce papers."
Thomas sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You really are an idiot, aren't you, Moretti? You think this is just about making amends? Do you know what Claire did yesterday?"
Vincent frowned. "She was in meetings with the philanthropic committee."
"She was at the Cook County Detention Center," Thomas revealed.
Vincent sat bolt upright, his heart hammering against his ribs. "What? Why would she go there?"
"She had a private visitation with Sophia Carter," Thomas said, watching Vincent’s reaction closely. "Sophia’s legal team is negotiating a plea deal with the federal prosecutors. She offered to turn over unreleased personal communications between you and her—things she claims would humiliate Claire publicly—in exchange for a lighter sentencing recommendation."
Vincent felt the blood drain from his face. A cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck. "There are no communications. Anything she has was fabricated by Julian’s software."
"Claire knew that," Thomas said softly. "Do you know what she told Sophia in that visitation room?"
Vincent swallowed hard, unable to speak. He shook his head.
"She told Sophia that if she leaked a single word to the press—real or manufactured—the Bennett Trust would fund the prosecution of every single member of Sophia’s immediate family who benefited from Vanguard’s offshore trusts. Her brother’s real estate firm in Miami. Her mother’s medical clinic in Atlanta. Claire had dossiers on all of them. She dismantled Sophia’s entire leverage in less than five minutes."
Thomas stood up, picking his unlit cigar off the desk and tucking it into his breast pocket. He looked down at Vincent with an expression that was almost sympathetic.
"My sister is ruthless when she wants to be, Vincent. She grew up in a family of wolves, and she learned how to bite harder than any of us. But she went to that detention center to protect your reputation, not hers. She burned Sophia to the ground so nobody could ever use that affair against you again."
Thomas walked to the door, resting his hand on the polished brass handle. He turned back one last time.
"She’s bleeding, Vincent. She’s acting like a queen because if she stops for one second, the pain will break her. If you really want to save your marriage, stop acting like her subordinate and start fighting for her like a man."
The door clicked shut, leaving Vincent alone in the vast, silent office.
May you like
He looked down at the balance sheets, the spreadsheets, and the corporate restructuring plans that had consumed his every waking hour. For the first time in three weeks, he saw them for what they truly were: an elaborate, cowardly hiding place.
Vincent stood up, swept the red folders off his desk, and walked out the door toward the private elevator that led to the 49th floor.
