Chapter 19 - The Execution of a GhostThe fallout was catastrophic, immediate, and utterly glorious.
By the time I woke up the next morning, the media narrative had entirely flipped. The fake ledgers against Noah were seized and dismissed as retaliatory forgery by the DOJ. Senator Vance was denied bail, locked in a federal black site awaiting a trial that guaranteed he would never see the sun again.
I was no longer just a brilliant fashion icon; I was an untouchable titan who had decimated a corrupt political syndicate on live television.
It was a rainy Thursday afternoon. Noah and I were at the Bellini & Moretti Atelier headquarters. We were standing in my office, looking down at the busy Manhattan streets below.
My encrypted phone rang. It was the lead prosecutor from the Department of Homeland Security.
“It's done, Mrs. Moretti,” the prosecutor said, his voice ringing with absolute respect. “Vance’s assets have been fully seized. The victims in the shipping containers were recovered safely in Eastern Europe. The threat is neutralized. You and Noah are entirely in the clear.”
I closed my eyes, letting a long, shaky breath escape my lungs. The invisible, crushing weight that had settled on my chest the day Vance walked into my office finally, permanently evaporated.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything.”
I hung up the phone and turned to Noah. He didn't ask what the call was about. He read the absolute peace on my face and knew.
Noah walked over, wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground. He spun me around once, a rare, uninhibited laugh echoing in the office, before setting me down and pressing his forehead against mine.
“He's gone,” Noah murmured.
“He's a ghost,” I agreed, resting my hands flat against his chest. “And he can never, ever hurt our family again.”
A soft knock interrupted us. The heavy glass door swung open, and Daniel walked in. He was holding a stack of pristine design portfolios. He was no longer the anxious designer I had hired years ago; he was a master of his craft.
“Are we celebrating?” Daniel asked, a bright, hopeful smile touching his lips.
“We are,” I said, walking over and pulling him into a fierce hug. “We are celebrating because the bad guys lost, and the good guys won. The company is safe, Daniel. I promise you.”
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he hugged me back. I realized, in that moment, that the cycle of fear had truly been broken. The people in this building didn't view Noah and me as remnants of the underworld. They viewed us as generals who could conquer the world.
Noah stepped forward, wrapping his massive arms around both of us, sealing us in an impenetrable fortress of loyalty and strength.
“Alright,” Noah said, his voice thick with emotion. “I think this calls for a massive, ridiculous dinner to celebrate. Where does the CEO want to eat?”
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I laughed, wiping a tear from my cheek. I was the head of a multi-million-dollar empire, a woman who had just decimated a corrupt senator, and I was exactly where I belonged.
“Take me home to Rhode Island, Noah,” I smiled, taking my husband's hand. “I want to see my son.”
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