Chapter 6 - THE HUNT BEGINS
Within thirty minutes of Adrian’s frantic command, the entire apparatus of the Moretti empire ground to an absolute halt.
Hedge fund acquisitions were postponed indefinitely.
Underworld collection routes were suspended.
Dozens of high-level surveillance vans rolled out from underground garages across Brooklyn, Queens, and Manhattan.
Adrian arrived at the Moretti Capital headquarters at 8:30 AM, looking like a man possessed by demons.
He had not shaved.
His dark tie was undone, and his eyes were bloodshot with an unhinged, predatory panic.
Marcus stood waiting for him inside the executive boardroom, surrounded by six digital intelligence analysts.
Monitors covered the walls, streaming live traffic feeds, terminal security footage, and banking network alerts.
“Report,” Adrian demanded, slamming his palms down on the glass table.
“She planned this with terrifying precision, Adrian,” Marcus said quietly, keeping his tone measured.
“She didn’t touch her primary checking accounts.”
“She didn’t use her credit cards.”
“Her company cell phone was powered down and dropped into an industrial trash chute near 42nd Street at six in the morning.”
“Every digital breadcrumb we usually track simply does not exist.”
Adrian ran his hands over his face, a hollow, suffocating dread clawing at his throat.
She was a senior financial analyst.
She had spent years analyzing patterns, tracking irregular financial flows, and identifying hidden loopholes.
She knew every tool his security team possessed because she had audited the department’s operational budgets herself.
She had used his own training to build an invisible ghost path out of his life.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom swung open.
Vanessa Russo swept into the room, wearing a tailored cream blazer, holding a cup of artisan coffee.
“Adrian, darling,” she purred, walking toward him with complete disregard for the grim atmosphere.
“Your secretary wasn’t at her desk, and people are saying you’ve canceled the merger summit with my father’s bankers.”
“We need to discuss the press release for our joint charity board—”
“Get out,” Adrian said, not even turning his head to look at her.
Vanessa stopped in her tracks, her lips parting in disbelief.
“Excuse me?”
Adrian turned around slowly, and the look in his eyes made even Marcus instinctively rest a hand on his concealed holster.
Adrian looked like an executioner who had run out of mercy.
“I said get the hell out of my building, Vanessa,” Adrian snarled, his voice a low, terrifying rasp.
“Adrian, don't speak to me like that! After everything my family has done to secure your chairmanship—”
“Your family didn’t secure a damn thing,” Adrian stepped toward her, his shadow swallowing her whole.
“I gave you a seat at my table out of respect for your dead father.”
“And because of that pathetic charade, I lost the only thing in this miserable world that actually mattered.”
“If you or any member of the Russo syndicate ever approaches me again outside of formal business, I will erase you from this city.”
“Now take your coffee and walk out before I have my men throw you into the street.”
Vanessa’s face turned white with pure shock.
She had never seen Adrian Moretti lose his glacial control.
She realized, with sudden, bitter horror, that she had never held a single corner of this man’s heart.
She turned on her heels and fled the room, her designer heels clicking frantically against the hardwood.
Adrian turned back to Marcus, breathing heavily, pointing a trembling finger at the wall monitors.
“Find Dr. Aris,” Adrian ordered, his voice raw.
“Find whoever printed that sonogram.”
“Find every cab driver who picked up a fare within four blocks of my building between five and six in the morning.”
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“I don't care if it costs fifty million dollars or burns down half the state.”
“Bring my wife and my child back to me.”
