Chapter 13 - THE WRATH OF A DON
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Victor’s eyes bulged with sheer disbelief as he listened to his nephew speaking to a federal prosecutor.
“The FBI?” Victor gasped, struggling violently beneath Luca’s heavy grip.
“You called the feds into our house?”
“A Moretti does not talk to the government!”
“You are violating the sacred oath our grandfather made in Sicily!”
Luca leaned down until his nose was an inch away from his uncle’s bruised, bleeding face.
“You forfeited your right to this family’s name the second you put digitalis into my father's tea,” Luca whispered coldly.
“And you forfeited your right to an honorable death when you put a rope around an eight-year-old girl's neck.”
“I am not going to bury you in a swamp where you can pretend to be a tragic mafia martyr, Victor.”
“You are going to spend the rest of your miserable life in a ten-by-ten concrete cell in ADX Florence.”
“You will die in an orange jumpsuit, forgotten by the city you tried to steal.”
Within five minutes, the sound of wailing sirens shattered the stillness of the wealthy suburban neighborhood.
Flashing red and blue lights illuminated the grand windows of the third-floor study, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Dozens of armed federal agents in tactical gear poured up the sweeping marble staircase with weapons drawn.
Special Agent Miller, a stern woman with steel-gray hair and sharp eyes, entered the office with handcuffs ready.
“Luca Moretti,” Agent Miller said, surveying the broken glass, the blood, and the open safe.
“Step back and let my agents secure the suspects.”
Luca stepped off his uncle’s chest without resistance, raising his hands slightly to show he was unarmed.
Two federal agents pinned Victor to the floor, wrenching his arms behind his back and snapping steel cuffs onto his wrists.
Another pair of agents grabbed Vanessa by her slender arms, hauling her roughly to her feet.
“Get your hands off me!” Vanessa shrieked, kicking wildly as her red designer dress tore along the seam.
“I am an innocent woman!”
“I want my attorney right now!”
Agent Miller picked up Lorenzo’s cassette recorder from the desk and slipped it into a clear plastic evidence bag.
“You can tell your attorney all about the digitalis receipts we just seized from your penthouse in Lincoln Park, Mrs. Moretti,” Miller said.
“You’re facing federal kidnapping, racketeering, and two counts of premeditated capital murder.”
“You will never see the outside of a maximum-security prison for as long as you draw breath.”
Vanessa’s screams faded down the hallway as the agents dragged her down the stairs, leaving behind only the echo of her ruin.
Victor was hauled out next, his head hanging low in shameful defeat as he refused to meet his nephew’s eyes.
When the office finally cleared of federal agents, only Luca, Arthur, and I remained standing among the debris.
The old butler was leaning against me, his body shaking with the aftershocks of fifty years of tension suddenly released.
Luca walked over to Arthur and gently placed both of his hands on the old man's shoulders.
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“It’s over, Arthur,” Luca said softly, his voice thick with genuine emotion.
“Your family is safe.”
