Thirty Days to Choose His Son

Chapter 3 Setting the Trap

Clara posted a photograph to her private social-media account. My cousin was on her follower list, which made the post private in name only.

Dante was at the city's largest amusement park with Toby on his shoulders. Both held cones of cotton candy, and Clara had framed the park's bright entrance behind them.

The caption read: *True fatherhood is about presence, not bloodline. So grateful for this man.*

That morning, Dante had canceled Leo's follow-up lung scan because of a “sudden issue with the shipping manifests.”

I saved a screenshot in the secure folder on my laptop. The Severance Pact required no evidence, but I wanted a record for Leo and for myself.

That evening, I found Leo curled up in a leather chair in the library with my phone. He was watching a video from two years earlier, before Clara returned to the estate.

Dante carried him on his shoulders along the beach. Leo kept leaning down to cover his father's eyes, and Dante staggered through the surf until both of them were laughing.

Leo watched the whole clip. Then he opened the album called “Family” and selected every photograph and video of Dante with us. His thumb stopped above the trash icon.

He looked at me. I nodded.

The screen asked: *Permanently delete these items?*

Leo tapped “Delete.”

“I don't need these anymore, Mom.” He returned the phone. The “Family” album was empty.

Three days remained.

The next morning, I ordered a full audit of the Moretti vault. Dante took it as proof that I was returning to my duties as lady of the estate.

The vault held gold bullion, bearer bonds, and art collected over generations.

I cataloged each item under the cameras and separated my dowry, premarital investments, and the profits from my jewelry designs. Every piece I claimed had a receipt or family record attached to it.

Those profits had funded Dante's family for years, though the ledgers still listed them under my name.

My European contacts converted the assets in stages. The digital keys ended up on one encrypted drive no larger than my thumbnail.

While Dante was out, I packed the last things we needed. My books, design sketches, and Leo's favorite possessions were already in a secure storage facility in Paris.

I had shipped them out a few boxes at a time over several weeks.

Nothing had disappeared quickly enough for the household staff to notice. Two suitcases waited at the back of a guest-room closet.

Tomorrow was Leo's seventh birthday and, by Moretti tradition, his formal investiture as heir.

Dante came home early carrying two tailored suits, one for himself and one for Leo. He held the smaller suit against Leo's shoulders and smiled when it fit.

In the grand foyer, he caught my arm. “Elena. Tomorrow will be perfect. It will be for Leo. No interruptions, no excuses. I swear on my father's grave that nothing will ruin this for our son.”

He believed every word while he said it.

Later, I opened the velvet box he had left on my dresser. The Moretti family badge rested on the satin: a silver wolf, raised on its hind legs.

Moretti heirs had worn the same emblem at their investitures for a century. Tomorrow, I was supposed to pin it to Leo's chest in front of every family head and bind him to the family.

I ran my thumb over the wolf, then closed the lid.