Chapter 10: The Loose End
The morning sun broke over the city skyline, casting long golden rays across the manicured lawns of the Moretti estate. Inside the grand ballroom, cleanup crews had already restored the pristine marble floors, removing every trace of the shattered cake and sugar ruins. But for Moretti, the psychological fallout of the attempted assassination lingered heavier than any physical damage.
He stood in his private study, reviewing satellite tracking reports on his desktop monitor. Arthur Sterling was locked away in a federal holding facility awaiting arraignment, but Marcus Vance remained an active ghost—unaccounted for and desperate. A cornered operative with nothing left to lose was more dangerous than an entire syndicate army.
Moretti’s encrypted phone buzzed on the mahogany desk. He picked it up immediately.
"Boss," Victor’s voice came through, sounding tense. "We tracked the IP address of the laptop Vance left at the warehouse. It wasn't just pinging a local server; it was routing through a residential address in the northern suburbs—an abandoned safehouse registered under one of Sterling’s front companies."
"Is Vance still there?" Moretti asked, his grip tightening around the phone.
"Negative. But we found something else inside the house. A secondary communication rig, and... a printed airline itinerary for a red-eye flight leaving out of the private municipal airstrip at noon today."
Moretti checked his watch. It was currently 8:30 AM. "A flight out of the country. He’s running."
"Not just running, boss," Victor added grimly. "The ticket was booked under Elena's maiden name, with a second seat reserved for a child. He's trying to extract Lily."
Moretti’s blood ran cold. Vance knew he couldn't win the corporate war against Moretti Logistics anymore, so he was pivoting to the one thing that would inflict permanent, devastating pain on Elena—stealing her daughter back and disappearing across international borders where extradition treaties didn't apply.
"Lock down the private airstrip immediately," Moretti commanded, his voice sharp as a blade. "Scramble our tactical transport and have two security units intercept every access road leading to hanger four. If Vance touches that tarmac, I want him detained before he reaches the plane."
"On it, boss. We're rolling out now."
Moretti ended the call and walked briskly out of the private study down the corridor toward the west wing. He pushed open the door to the parlor, where Elena and the children were eating a quiet breakfast. Julian looked up from his cereal bowl with wide, curious eyes, while Elena immediately sensed the tension in Moretti’s posture and stood up from the table.
"What is it?" Elena asked, her voice tight with immediate fear. "What happened?"
"Vance is making a run for the private airstrip in the northern suburbs," Moretti said without hesitation. "He booked a flight using your maiden name. He’s coming for Lily."
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Elena’s face drained of color. The teacup slipped from her hand, shattering against the wooden floorboards with a sharp crash, spraying porcelain shards across the room. "My daughter... he wouldn't dare."
"He's desperate, Elena, and a desperate man is capable of anything," Moretti said firmly, stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Get your coat. You're coming with me. We end this today."
