Chapter 4 - MIDNIGHT CONFRONTATION
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The heavy mahogany doors groaned under the force of the pounding outside.
Marco’s deep voice boomed through the foyer as he barked orders to the guards stationed along the perimeter.
Luca didn't flinch; he simply slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, his posture relaxed yet deadly.
Michael immediately drew a matte-black pistol from beneath his leather coat, flicking off the safety with a practiced thumb.
"Stay behind me, Mama," Michael said quietly, stepping in front of Teresa’s chair.
"Michael, put that away in this house!" Teresa scolded, though her knuckles turned white against the table edge.
I moved instinctively to Teresa’s other side, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.
The front doors swung open, and the sound of angry voices filled the marble entrance.
"Get your hands off him!" a woman’s hysterical voice shrieked.
Vanessa Bellini pushed past Marco, her red gown torn at the hem, her hair disheveled from the wind and rain outside.
Behind her stood her older brother, Lorenzo Bellini, his face flushed with rage and alcohol, his designer coat soaked through.
"Luca!" Lorenzo roared, storming into the dining room before Marco caught him by the collar and slammed him against the doorframe.
"Easy, Lorenzo," Marco growled, pressing his forearm against Lorenzo’s throat.
"You're in the Don’s dining room."
"Let him go, Marco," Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Marco released his grip, stepping back with his hand resting loosely near his holster.
Lorenzo stumbled forward, straightening his lapels with trembling, furious hands.
"What kind of madness is this, Moretti?" Lorenzo spat, pointing an accusing finger at Luca.
"You throw my sister out into the rain like a stray dog? You break an alliance between our families over some senile old woman’s complaints?"
The temperature in the room plummeted below zero.
Michael raised his gun, aiming it directly between Lorenzo’s eyes with a sickening click.
"Say that word again, Lorenzo," Michael whispered, a dark, manic grin spreading across his face.
"Say 'senile' one more time and let's see how fast your brains paint the wallpaper."
"Michael. Down," Luca commanded without raising his voice.
Michael didn't lower the gun immediately, but after a tense second, he tilted the barrel toward the floor, his eyes never leaving Lorenzo’s throat.
Vanessa stepped into the center of the room, her chest heaving, tears ruining what was left of her makeup.
"You had your thugs throw my luggage into the mud, Luca!" she wailed, pointing out the dark windows.
"My mother is having an anxiety attack in the car! You humiliated me in front of thirty of the most powerful people in Illinois!"
"You humiliated yourself the moment you tied an apron around my mother," Luca replied coldly.
"It was a joke! It was an innocent misunderstanding!" Vanessa shouted, looking wildly around the room.
"Ask your coordinator! Ask Patricia! Teresa said she wanted to feel useful!"
Teresa sat up straight in her chair, her soft eyes hardening into something resembling steel.
"I never said that, Vanessa," Teresa spoke, her voice ringing clear and steady through the grand room.
Vanessa froze, staring at the older woman as if she had suddenly grown fangs.
"You told me that if I sat near Luca, people would ask where my family came from," Teresa said, her voice trembling but resolute.
"You told me that my husband died like a dog in an alley, and that I should be grateful your father was willing to let his name wash away our shame."
Lorenzo scoffed loudly, crossing his arms.
"And she was right! What was your husband, Teresa? A two-bit enforcer who couldn't even pay off his own debts!"
Before Lorenzo could take another breath, Luca crossed the floor like a shadow.
There was a sickening crunch of breaking cartilage as Luca’s fist collided squarely with Lorenzo’s jaw.
Lorenzo collapsed onto the polished floor with a muffled groan, clutching his bloody face in agony.
Vanessa screamed, dropping to her knees beside her brother.
Luca stood over him, shaking out his knuckles, not a single hair out of place.
"My father died defending the territory your father now profits from," Luca said, his voice dropping into a register that made my skin prickle.
"You breathe Chicago air because my father took three bullets meant for Salvatore Bellini thirty years ago."
"And you come into my house to insult his widow?"
Lorenzo groaned, blood dripping through his fingers onto the white marble.
"You're dead, Moretti," Lorenzo wheezed through shattered teeth.
"The commission will hear about this. The other families won't let you break the treaty."
"The commission already knows," Luca said coldly.
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out his phone, and tossed it onto Lorenzo’s chest.
"Call your father right now, Lorenzo."
"Ask him why his warehouse on 47th Street is currently surrounded by federal marshals."
Lorenzo froze, his eyes widening in sheer terror.
"What did you do?" Vanessa gasped, looking up at Luca with horror.
"I didn't do anything," Luca said with a chilling smile.
"I simply stopped paying the inspectors who overlook your family’s illegal contraband."
"Without my protection, the Bellinis are just common smugglers with expensive suits."
Vanessa looked at her brother, whose face had gone completely gray.
"You're a demon," Vanessa whispered, her voice shaking violently.
"I am a son," Luca replied.
"And in this house, honoring your mother is the only law that cannot be broken."
Luca turned his back on them, walking slowly toward where I stood beside Teresa.
"Marco," Luca said without looking back.
"Throw them both outside the perimeter gate."
"If either of them steps foot on this property again, do not call me. Handle it."
"Yes, boss," Marco said, grabbing Lorenzo by the coat collar and dragging him across the floor like a sack of grain.
Vanessa scrambled to her feet, sobbing uncontrollably as two other guards flanked her, forcing her toward the grand doors.
"Hannah!" Vanessa shrieked suddenly, turning her venomous gaze onto me before she was pushed out into the rain.
"You think you've won something, you little charity case?"
"You're just a servant! You'll always be just a servant cleaning up after killers!"
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind her, cutting off her voice forever.
The house returned to a heavy, echoing silence.
Teresa let out a long, ragged sigh, her small shoulders sagging as the adrenaline drained from her body.
"Oh, Luca... what a terrible night," she murmured softly.
Luca walked over, pulling a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, and gently wiped a fresh tear from her cheek.
"The night is over, Mama," he said softly, his voice full of warmth that no outsider would ever believe he possessed.
"The snakes are out of the garden."
He turned his attention to me, his gaze sweeping over my uniform.
"Hannah, take my mother upstairs to her suite."
"Make sure she drinks warm milk and that the fire in her hearth is lit."
"Yes, Mr. Moretti," I answered softly, offering my arm to Teresa.
Teresa took my arm, leaning her frail weight against me as she stood up from the dining chair.
"Come along, Hannah dear," Teresa whispered, patting my hand.
"Let's leave these foolish boys to clean up their mess."
As we walked toward the grand curved staircase, Luca called out behind me.
"Hannah."
I stopped on the bottom step and looked back over my shoulder.
Luca was watching me, his dark eyes searching mine in the dim glow of the chandelier.
"Tomorrow morning at eight. My study."
May you like
"Don't be late."
"Yes, sir," I whispered, turning to guide Teresa up the stairs, completely unaware of the dangerous path that had just opened beneath my feet.
