The Heirs of Moretti

Part 2: The Woman He Underestimated

Dante Moretti stared at me as if he were seeing a stranger.

“You’re listed as the controlling trustee?” he repeated.

I gently adjusted the blanket covering the smallest baby.

“Apparently, your family knows something you don’t.”

His expression darkened.

“Explain.”

I almost laughed.

For three years, Dante had never bothered to understand the woman he married. He thought I was an ordinary girl from a modest family who had been lucky enough to become Mrs. Moretti.

He had no idea who my grandfather was.

My grandfather, Alessandro Romano, had once controlled one of the largest private banking and investment networks in Europe. Before his death, he had established a trust for me and my future children.

The four babies weren’t simply Dante’s heirs.

They were also Romano heirs.

And according to the trust agreement, I was their sole legal guardian and controlling trustee until they reached adulthood.

“Your father approved the arrangement,” I explained calmly. “He wanted to ensure the children could never be used as bargaining chips in a family power struggle.”

Dante’s phone rang again.

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This time, he answered.

“Father?”

A furious voice came through the speaker.

“Where is Sophia?”

“She’s trying to take the children.”

“Then perhaps you should have thought about that before divorcing their mother while she was recovering from emergency surgery!”

Dante went silent.

His father continued.

“Bring them home. And don’t you dare touch those babies without Sophia’s permission.”

The call ended.

Dante looked at me.

“Get in the car. We’re going home.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t have a home with you anymore.”

“Sophia, don’t test my patience.”

I met his eyes.

“You already tested mine for three years.”

I turned toward Emma.

“Let’s go.”

Two of Dante’s men stepped forward, blocking our path.

But before they could move closer, several black SUVs entered the garage.

Their doors opened simultaneously.

A group of men in dark suits stepped out.

At their center was a silver-haired man carrying a leather briefcase.

Dante recognized him immediately.

“Mr. Whitmore?”

The elderly lawyer ignored him and walked straight toward me.

“Mrs. Romano, your grandfather’s security team has arrived. We’ve also received confirmation that the Romano board has activated the emergency protection clause.”

Dante’s face changed.

“Romano board?”

The lawyer opened his briefcase.

“Your former wife controls a substantial investment portfolio, Mr. Moretti. Effective immediately, every business transaction involving the four heirs’ trust requires her authorization.”

He handed me a document.

I signed it without hesitation.

Then I looked at Dante one last time.

“You wanted seventy million dollars to make me disappear.”

I glanced at the four babies.

“Unfortunately for you, I was never for sale.”

That night, we left Chicago.

And Dante Moretti finally discovered what it felt like to lose control.

Three days later, I was staying in a private estate overlooking Lake Geneva.

The babies were receiving excellent medical care, and I was finally recovering from surgery.

Emma sat beside my bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Sophia, you need to see this.”

She showed me a photograph.

Dante and Isabella were standing outside a luxury hotel.

The headline read:

DANTE MORETTI CONFIRMS HIS NEW RELATIONSHIP AFTER DIVORCE.

I stared at the photograph for a moment.

Then I handed the phone back.

“Let them enjoy their happiness.”

Emma frowned.

“You’re not angry?”

I looked toward the nursery.

“I was angry when I believed he loved me. Now I just want my children to grow up knowing they were wanted.”

But Emma wasn’t finished.

“There is something else. Isabella has been telling reporters that you’re mentally unstable and that you kidnapped the children.”

I slowly sat up.

“Who gave her that information?”

“Someone inside the Moretti family.”

Before I could respond, my phone rang.

An unknown number.

I answered.

A deep male voice spoke.

“Sophia, it’s your father-in-law.”

My heart stopped.

“Mr. Moretti?”

“I need to tell you something about Dante’s mother. Something your husband doesn’t know.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“What is it?”

He paused.

“Those divorce papers weren’t prepared last week. Isabella had been planning this for months. And she wasn’t simply trying to become Dante’s wife.”

His voice dropped.

“She wanted your children.”