Chapter 2
Alessandro Moretti
I was sweating profusely, but I kept jogging. I needed to clear my head. I needed to go home.
My mom had been texting and calling nonstop. If I hadn't threatened to turn off my private line, she would have already figured out where I lived. I was finally living a good life—my own life—and I had promised to visit soon. Still, I missed my brothers.
After a few more minutes, I headed back home.
The house was already being cleaned. I thought it was my housekeeper
"Bonjour, mademoiselle," I said casually as I walked past.
Then I froze.
She replied in Italian.
The voice—
It sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
"Oh my God…" I whispered.
"Mom?" I shouted, spinning around in shock. "How did you find me?"
"Alessandro."
That name. Only my dad ever called me Maximillion.
"Alessandro," she said again, her voice breaking. "Is that the first thing you say to me after two years?"
Tears were already rolling down her cheeks. I forgot to mention—Shereé was emotional. Extremely emotional. Everyone called her Shereé.
She hugged me tightly, then noticed I could hardly breathe. She loosened her grip slightly, but her hands stayed clenched in my shirt, like she was afraid I might disappear again.
"Have you been sleeping in the gym?" she asked, pulling back just enough to look at me. "You're so built now—more than before. Look at these muscles. Those broad shoulders… you're even bigger than Lorenzo now."
I smiled without thinking. I had always been jealous of my brother's abs.
She stared at me for a moment longer, and I looked away sharply—because I knew what was coming next.
"Sandro…" she said softly.
I sighed. "Mom, please—"
She looked at me worriedly, her eyes searching mine. "Do you even know how I found you, Alessandro?"
I swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of what to say.
"Why did you leave?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Two years… two whole years without a word. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
I looked down, rubbing the back of my neck. "I… I needed space," I muttered. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, and I thought… maybe it would be easier if I just… stayed away."
Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she didn't turn away. "Easier for you, Alessandro? Do you know how much I worried? How many nights I couldn't sleep, wondering if something had happened to you? Your brothers… they looked for you."
"I know," I whispered, my throat tight. "I just… I didn't know how to come back."
Her hands reached up to touch my face again, gentle but firm. "You think I wanted to stay away from you? Every day, I hoped you'd call. That you'd trust me enough to let me in."
I felt a lump form in my chest. I had missed her. I had missed them all more than I could admit.
She stepped back slightly, taking a shaky breath. "Two years, Alessandro. That's not just time. That's—"
"Mom…" I tried to cut in, but she held up her hand, stopping me.
"That's a lifetime of fear, of wondering if I failed you," she said, her voice trembling. "And now… now you're here, and I don't know if I should be angry, or just hold you forever."
I swallowed again, my own guilt pressing down like a weight I couldn't lift. "I… I'm sorry," I said finally, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
She gave a small nod, as if accepting the apology—but I could tell she wasn't done. "You have a lot to explain, Alessandro," she said quietly. "And we will. But first… go shower. You smell like the gym and sweat, and we need to start fresh."
I nodded slowly, letting her guide the pace. For the first time in two years, it felt like home wasn't somewhere I was running from… it was somewhere I was finally stepping back into.
After breakfast, I told Shereé I needed to get to work for a bit. "I'll be back before you even know it," I said with a small smile. She nodded, still a little worried, but didn't press me further.
A private jet waited just outside the estate. The cabin was quiet, the hum of the engines a comforting rhythm as I stared out the window, thinking about the past two years and the unexpected reunion with Mom.
By the time we landed, I was already focused on the day ahead. No delays. No excuses.
At my office, Lucas—my partner—was waiting anxiously in the lobby.
"Alessandro," he said as soon as I stepped in, "finally. We were supposed to be meeting fifteen minutes ago."
"I was on a jet," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled nervously. "Right… anyway, we need to talk. Something urgent came up."
I followed him into the boardroom. The moment I stepped in, I sensed the tension. Everyone around the table was on edge, eyes flicking between Lucas and me.
"What's going on?" I asked, taking my seat.
He handed me a folder. "It's the Moretti International project in Singapore. The deal is about to fall through. The client's threatening to pull out unless we give them the revised proposal by tonight."
I flipped through the documents, scanning the numbers and clauses. "How did this happen?"
"Several delays in approvals," Lucas explained. "And someone leaked part of our strategy. They're hinting it came from inside."
I leaned back, fists tightening slightly. "Inside?"
"Yes. We don't know who yet," he said, his voice low. "But if we don't fix this fast, it could cost the company millions—and our reputation."
I nodded, already calculating steps in my mind. "Alright. Get me the team. We stay here until this is sorted. No mistakes, no excuses. I want updates every hour."
Lucas gave a sharp nod. "Understood, Sandro."
Within minutes, the team assembled. I scanned the room—analysts, project managers, legal advisors. Everyone knew the stakes, and I could feel the tension crackling like electricity.
"Alright," I began, voice calm but firm, "here's what we're doing. First, I want a full audit of every communication with the client from the last three weeks. Any email, call log, or memo. I want it traced and timestamped."
One of the analysts raised an eyebrow. "That's… a lot, Sandro. We'll need hours."
"Hours we don't have," I said sharply. "We start now. Every minute counts."
Lucas handed me a tablet with preliminary figures. "The client says they got wind of our projected expansion plans. They're afraid we're over-promising."
I swiped through the documents, my mind racing. "Then we clarify. Reconfirm deliverables. Show them we're not overextending. And I want a contingency plan ready—alternative proposals, timelines, and resource allocation."
Someone at the back cleared their throat nervously. "Sandro… if this leak came from inside…"
"Yes," I said, cutting them off. "I know. That's why we're moving fast. Whoever did this underestimated us."
I could feel the pressure, the weight of the company, the family name—but I thrived under it. The numbers, the strategy, the stakes—it all made my mind sharpen.
"Everyone knows their roles," I continued. "If this deal fails, it's not just money. It's credibility. It's reputation. And we do not fail. Understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Sandro" echoed in the room.
As the team dispersed, Lucas lingered for a moment. "Sandro… you really think this leak is deliberate?"
I nodded. "I don't just think it. I know it. And whoever it is… they're about to find out what happens when they challenge a Moretti."
By late morning, I was on the video call with the Singapore client. The screen lit up, showing three executives in sleek suits, their expressions polite but guarded.
"Good morning," I said smoothly, leaning back in my chair. "I'm Alessandro Moretti. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today."
The lead executive, a stern-looking man named Mr. Tan, nodded. "Good morning, Mr. Moretti. We appreciate your availability. We've reviewed the preliminary proposal and… we have concerns."
I smiled faintly, keeping my tone calm. "I expected as much. Let's go through them one by one. I want complete clarity so we can address every issue to your satisfaction."
Mr. Tan leaned forward. "Our primary concern is the projected timeline. Your expansion plan seems… aggressive. We need assurance that your team can meet these deadlines without compromising quality."
I tapped a pen against the table. "I understand. Let me assure you—our timelines are ambitious because we're confident in our execution. That said, we've prepared contingency plans for every stage of the project. Resources are allocated, personnel are ready, and we've accounted for potential risks. Here's a breakdown."
I shared my screen, showing detailed charts and updated milestones. Every number had been double-checked. Every potential bottleneck addressed.
The client exchanged glances, murmuring softly. I could feel the skepticism melting.
"Additionally," I continued, "any delays or obstacles will be communicated immediately. Transparency is critical, and we believe in full collaboration. Your confidence in Moretti International is not just appreciated—it's earned."
Mr. Tan's expression softened slightly. "We… appreciate this level of detail, Mr. Moretti. It does reassure us. But there's one more issue: we've received information suggesting your internal team has had some delays."
I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Delays? I'm not aware of any. Can you specify?"
Lucas leaned forward, whispering quickly: "They've seen the manipulated timeline."
I nodded subtly, then faced the screen. "If there's been a misunderstanding, I assure you it's being corrected. We've identified some inconsistencies and are addressing them immediately. Our proposal tonight will reflect the most accurate, updated plan. You'll have it before the end of your business day."
There was silence for a moment. Then Mr. Tan spoke. "Very well, Mr. Moretti. We will await your revised proposal. But let me be clear—we expect this handled without errors."
"Absolutely," I replied, my voice firm. "Consider it done."
The call ended. I leaned back, exhaling slowly. Lucas gave me a look of admiration mixed with relief.
"That went well," he said quietly. "Better than I expected."
I shook my head, still staring at the blank screen. "It went well because I know what's coming next. The leak. Whoever wants to destabilize us won't stop here."
Lucas frowned. "You really think this is deliberate?"
I nodded. "I know it. And when they realize who they're dealing with, they'll regret underestimating a Moretti."