Chapter 7 - THE CLEANUP
Two NYPD officers, accompanied by federal marshals, stepped up the altar stairs to take custody of Vivian Crawford.
As they grabbed her arms, pulling her hands behind her back, Vivian lost every shred of her aristocratic composure. She kicked, screamed, and spat, her diamond tiara slipping sideways off her head and clattering down the marble steps, where it lay shattered beside her dropped bouquet.
“You ruined me, Massimo!” she shrieked, her voice echoing off the stained-glass windows as she was dragged down the center aisle past three hundred horrified, silent guests. “You’re a monster! You set me up! You set me up!”
“You set yourself up the moment you touched my mother,” I replied quietly, watching her white dress vanish through the heavy rear doors into an awaiting police transport van.
The cathedral was in a state of absolute, unprecedented tumult. Guests were standing on pews, whispering frantically, pulling out cell phones to text the news to media outlets across Manhattan. Within fifteen minutes, every major news network in the country would be broadcasting the footage of the Moretti wedding bust.
I turned away from the altar and walked down the steps toward the front right pew.
The chaos of the room seemed to fade away as I reached my mother’s wheelchair.
Lucia looked up at me. Her dark eyes were brimming with quiet, fierce pride, but her face was calm. She reached up with her frail hand, catching my wrist, her thumb resting against my pulse.
“You took your time, Massimo,” she whispered, a small, knowing smile touching her lips.
“I had to make sure the evidence was neat, Ma,” I replied, kneeling on one knee beside her chair so I was at eye level. “Are you alright?”
“I’m better than I’ve been in three years,” she said softly.
Then I turned my eyes to the young woman sitting beside her.
Sophie Bennett was sitting very still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her wide brown eyes looking at me with a mixture of profound relief and total awe. She looked small against the vast, chaotic backdrop of the cathedral, but to me, she was the only person in that entire room who had demonstrated true, unvarnished courage when it mattered most.
I stood up and faced her.
“Miss Bennett,” I said smoothly.
Sophie swallowed hard, standing up from the pew, adjusting her navy dress nervously. “Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“My chief of security informed me that you were subjected to an illegal search, verbal abuse, and an attempted framing by my former employees over the past forty-eight hours,” I said, keeping my voice clear and respectful.
Sophie lowered her head slightly. “I was just trying to protect your mother, sir. She was kind to me when no one else in this house was.”
I reached out and gently placed my hand under her chin, lifting her face until her eyes met mine.
“You didn't just protect my mother, Sophie,” I said softly. “You stood between a predator and a helpless woman while everyone else in that house looked the other way. That is not something that can be compensated with an hourly wage.”
I turned to my lead attorney, who was standing three steps behind me holding a leather portfolio.
“Effective immediately,” I announced, looking back at Sophie, “Sophie Bennett is relieved of all domestic staff duties at the Westchester estate.”
Sophie’s face went slightly pale. “Sir? Am I... am I being fired?”
Lucia let out a soft, joyful laugh from her chair. “Foolish girl. Listen to him.”
“You are not being fired, Sophie,” I smiled—a real, genuine smile that I hadn't felt on my face in five years. “You are being appointed as the Executive Director of the Lucia Moretti Charitable Healthcare Foundation, with an initial operating endowment of fifteen million dollars and an annual executive salary of three hundred thousand dollars.”
Sophie’s mouth opened slightly in absolute, speechless shock. “I... I don't know anything about running a foundation, Mr. Moretti! I’m just... I’m a housekeeper!”
“You are a woman of character, courage, and absolute loyalty,” I corrected her firmly. “Everything else—the management, the administration, the legal structures—can be taught by my team. Character cannot be bought.”
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Tears overflowed from Sophie’s eyes, sparkling like diamonds on her cheeks. She looked down at my mother, who grabbed her hand and squeezed it with surprising strength.
“Take the job, little bird,” Lucia said, her voice filled with deep warmth. “Someone has to help me spend my son’s money on people who actually deserve it.”
