Chapter 8 - The Confrontation at the Gates
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Dawn broke over Lake Michigan in streaks of bruised purple and gold.
Outside the towering wrought-iron gates of the Moretti estate, three black Cadillac Escalades idled menacingly.
Inside the grand foyer of the mansion, sixty heavily armed Moretti soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder along the marble walls.
Every man wore a dark suit, his face carved from stone, his weapon ready.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, dressed in an elegant navy-blue wool dress that Mrs. Gable had tailored for me overnight.
Oliver stood beside me, holding my hand tightly.
He was dressed in a neat white collared shirt, gray trousers, and a navy cardigan.
His little fingers still held the brass key from inside his bear.
Luca stood at the center of the foyer below, wearing a tailored charcoal three-piece suit.
The heavy front doors swung open with a resounding thud.
Salvatore Bellini walked inside.
He was a man in his late fifties with slicked-back silver hair, a scarred cheek, and a tailored Italian coat draped over his shoulders.
Two massive bodyguards followed closely behind him, their hands buried inside their overcoats.
"Luca!" Salvatore bellowed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "What is the meaning of this circus?!"
"Where is my daughter?!"
Luca stood completely motionless, his hands resting easily in his trouser pockets.
"Good morning, Salvatore," Luca said smoothly. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice."
"Don't play games with me, boy!" Salvatore spat, taking two aggressive steps forward.
"My daughter was invited to your house for a formal dinner!"
"Now I receive reports that you locked her in a cellar like a stray dog!"
"Release her this instant, or the Bellini family will turn your streets into a graveyard!"
A wave of quiet chuckles rippled through the sixty Moretti soldiers lining the room.
Not a single man showed an ounce of fear.
Luca took three slow steps toward the older mob boss.
"Your daughter is alive and unharmed, Salvatore," Luca said coldly.
"Which is far more mercy than she showed to my brother's family three years ago."
Salvatore's arrogant sneer faltered for a fraction of a second.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Salvatore demanded. "Matteo abandoned Chicago seven years ago!"
"Matteo was driven out of this city because your daughter threatened to butcher his wife and child," Luca announced, his voice carrying like thunder.
Luca pointed up toward the landing of the grand staircase.
Every head in the room turned upward.
All eyes landed on Oliver and me.
Salvatore looked up, his face visibly draining of color.
He stared at Oliver's face—the spitting image of Matteo Moretti.
"Impossible," Salvatore muttered under his breath.
"That is Oliver Matteo Moretti," Luca declared with absolute authority.
"His blood is verified by Dr. Evans."
"He is my nephew."
"And he is the rightful heir to everything my father built."
Luca stepped directly into Salvatore's personal space, towering over the older man.
"Your daughter confessed everything on audio recording downstairs, Salvatore."
"She admitted that you provided the surveillance teams that hunted Matteo."
"She admitted that you planned to murder his child so that the Bellini family could steal the Moretti throne through marriage."
Salvatore's hands began to shake inside his coat pockets.
"Luca, listen to me," Salvatore whispered desperately, realizing his fatal mistake. "Vanessa acted on her own! I knew nothing of this!"
"Don't lie to me in my own home," Luca hissed.
"You have until sunset to forfeit all your operations at the Port of Chicago and hand over your financial ledgers."
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"If you refuse, I will open the safe-deposit box at Lakefront Union Bank and hand every record of your bribery to the federal prosecutors."
"And then I will hunt down every man who wears your name."
