Chapter 13 - Lucian’s Family Wanted Her Gone
The Moretti family did not like Meline.
Not because she insulted Lucian.
Because he listened.
His uncle Matteo requested a private dinner.
Lucian refused to call it a meeting.
That meant it was definitely a meeting.
Meline did not attend.
She heard about it afterward.
Matteo said:
“She’s making you soft.”
Lucian answered:
“No. She’s making me visible to myself.”
Matteo hated that more.
The family’s older businesses had been shrinking for years.
Lucian had closed illegal lending.
Exited protection rackets.
Sold clubs tied to cash laundering.
Cooperated quietly with prosecutors on old operations.
But not everyone wanted legitimacy.
Some men preferred the old certainty.
Fear paid quickly.
Matteo warned him that Caldwell’s crisis was drawing attention toward the Moretti freight empire.
Lucian replied:
“Then we should survive attention.”
That was new.
The old family strategy was avoid.
Hide.
Control.
Matteo said:
“Get rid of the girl.”
Lucian stood.
The dinner ended.
Not violently.
That also was new.
He called Meline afterward.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You sound angry.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“My uncle thinks you’re bad for business.”
Meline laughed.
“He might be right.”
“I told him he’s welcome to diversify.”
She smiled.
Then he became serious.
“He may try to embarrass you.”
“What can he say that the internet hasn’t?”
“Your old analyst files. Your mother. Money.”
Meline’s face hardened.
“He touches my mother, I testify at his funeral.”
Lucian paused.
“That was disturbingly Moretti.”
“Do not be proud.”
“I’m not.”
He absolutely was.
Three days later, a story appeared.
FORMER ANALYST TURNED WAITRESS HAD PRIOR DISCIPLINARY COMPLAINT.
Meline stared at the headline.
The complaint came from Beirut.
Three years old.
A client had accused her of “overstepping analytical scope” and “injecting personal judgment.”
The client was Crescent Meridian.
Of course.
Her old firm had dismissed the complaint internally.
Nobody mentioned that in the headline.
Evelyn threw the tablet onto the couch.
“I hate rich people.”
Meline looked at her.
“We’re in a luxury hotel.”
“I hate selectively.”
Nadia issued a public statement.
The complaint had been investigated and rejected.
Meline’s work met professional standards.
Then something unexpected happened.
Lucian said nothing publicly.
Meline noticed.
“Thank you.”
He looked confused.
“For what?”
“Not defending me.”
“You had evidence.”
“Yes.”
“And Nadia.”
“Yes.”
“I’m learning.”
Matteo’s smear failed.
Worse for him, journalists began examining why old Moretti associates had access to Meline’s employment information.
That opened another question.
Who had provided it?
The answer was a private investigator connected to Matteo.
Lucian confronted him.
This time Meline did attend.
Not because she needed to.
Because Matteo had made her part of it.
The meeting happened in a Moretti hotel conference room.
Matteo looked at her and laughed.
“This is what has my nephew confused?”
Meline sat.
“What?”
“A waitress.”
Lucian’s face darkened.
Meline touched his sleeve once.
He stopped.
She looked at Matteo.
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“Yes what?”
“I’m a waitress.”
Silence.
“That is the part none of you can stop saying like it explains something.”
Matteo leaned back.
“You think degrees make you equal to us?”
Meline smiled.
“No.”
His smile returned.
Then she continued.
“I think being human did that before the degrees.”
Lucian looked down to hide his reaction.
Matteo did not.
His face hardened.
The investigator admitted Matteo paid him.
Lucian removed his uncle from all Moretti boards that afternoon.
Not because Meline demanded it.
She did not.
Because family governance rules prohibited misuse of company resources for personal surveillance.
Matteo called him weak.
Lucian replied:
“No. Documented.”
Meline heard that later and laughed for five full minutes.
Power with paperwork.
Maybe civilization was possible.
Matteo’s removal created a practical problem.
He controlled relationships with several union contractors at the ports.
Lucian’s executives warned that cutting him out too quickly could disrupt operations.
Meline heard about it over dinner and immediately said, “Not my problem.”
Lucian smiled.
“Healthy boundary.”
“Yes.”
Then she added, “But your workers shouldn’t pay for your family fight.”
His smile vanished.
“Also true.”
He brought in an independent labor mediator.
Matteo called it betrayal.
The unions called it Tuesday.
Within a month, new contracts were signed without him.
Lucian learned something Meline had already discovered in the restaurant.
Powerful men often described systems as impossible because they had never tried operating without personal control.
Matteo had not been essential.
He had been familiar.
That distinction became important across the Moretti companies.
Department heads documented procedures.
Vendor selection moved to committees.
No single uncle, cousin, or trusted lieutenant could quietly become infrastructure.
Lucian hated the bureaucracy.
Marco loved mocking him for it.
“You wanted legitimacy.”
“I wanted less shooting.”
“Forms are the price.”
Meline heard that story later and laughed.
“Marco is right.”
Lucian looked wounded.
“You always choose him.”
“He gardens.”
May you like
“That is not a qualification.”
“It helps.”
