Chapter 7 - The Exile
Three days later, the financial pages of the Wall Street Journal ran a shock headline:
*MORETTI GLOBAL RESTRUCTURED; FOUNDER DOMINIC MORETTI STEPS DOWN AMID SUDDEN ASSET DIVERSIFICATION.*
Down at the private airfield on the outskirts of Boston, a sleek, twin-engine Gulfstream jet sat idling on the tarmac, its turbine engines screaming against the wind.
Dominic Moretti walked up the portable stairs alone. He carried a single leather duffel bag. Before stepping into the cabin, he turned back to look out over the tarmac.
Standing near the edge of the private security zone, wearing a sharp black wool coat, was Seraphina. Holding her hand was Aurora, clutching her rabbit toy, looking up at her mother with absolute, unshakeable adoration.
Dominic didn't wave. He couldn't. He turned and disappeared into the cabin, the heavy door sealing shut behind him. Within minutes, the jet accelerated down the runway and lifted off into the gray New England sky, carrying the exiled king away from the empire he thought he owned.
Seraphina watched the plane vanish into the clouds.
She felt no triumph, only the cold, clear satisfaction of a ledger finally balanced.
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She knelt down to Aurora’s eye level. "Come on, sweet girl," Seraphina said, a soft, genuine smile finally touching her lips. "Let's go home."
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