Chapter 6 - The Wrath of the Syndicate
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The temperature in the study plummeted to zero in an instant.
Luca did not panic; he didn't even reach for the firearm tucked beneath his desk blotter.
He simply closed his laptop with a quiet click and stood up to his full, towering height.
"Keep Ethan in the safe room on the third floor," Luca instructed Marco, his tone as chilling as winter frost.
"Yes, boss," Marco replied, nodding once.
Luca turned his gaze down to me, reaching out to gently touch my shoulder.
"Go with Marco, Nora," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle amid the gathering storm.
"Take Ethan to the panic room behind my master closet."
"Enter the code six-eight-two-one."
"Do not open that door for anyone except me or Marco."
"Mr. Moretti, please be careful," I pleaded, clutching the life-saving check against my chest.
"They brought fifty men."
A grim, dangerous smirk touched the corner of Luca's lips.
"Fifty men who have forgotten whose city this is."
"Go."
I scrambled out of the study behind Marco, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
We sprinted up the service stairs, taking the steps three at a time.
In the master bedroom, Ethan was already awake, clutching his stuffed polar bear in the hallway.
"Miss Nora?" Ethan cried out, his little face pale as the distant rumble of roaring engines shook the estate grounds.
"I've got you, sweetheart," I whispered, sweeping the boy up into my arms and running into Luca's vast master closet.
Marco pushed aside a rack of tailored black suits, revealing a heavy reinforced steel door set flush into the mahogany wall.
My fingers flew across the digital keypad: six-eight-two-one.
The heavy pneumatic locks disengaged with a solid hiss, and the steel door swung open.
Inside was a luxurious, fully stocked panic room with leather sofas, emergency rations, and a wall of thirty high-definition surveillance monitors.
"Lock it from the inside," Marco ordered, handing me a small black radio.
"Channel four if you need us."
"He's going to be okay, right?" I asked, holding Ethan tightly against my chest.
"The boss doesn't lose, Nora," Marco said bluntly before slamming the heavy vault door shut.
The bolts slid into place with a resounding thud.
Ethan buried his head into the crook of my neck, trembling violently.
"Is it Vanessa?" Ethan whimpered.
"Her daddy is here," I said softly, carrying him over to the plush sofa and wrapping a fleece blanket around his small shoulders.
"Your father is handling it."
"Look at the screens, Ethan."
"Your daddy is the strongest man in Chicago."
I walked over to the bank of security monitors, my eyes scanning the live feeds.
The front courtyard of the estate was swarming with black SUVs, their high-beam headlights blinding in the morning downpour.
Dozens of men in heavy raincoats stood with assault rifles raised, surrounding the grand marble fountain.
At the center of the formation stood Don Silvio Bellini.
Silvio was sixty years old, with slicked-back silver hair, an expensive camel-hair coat, and a face carved by decades of ruthless violence.
Beside him stood Vanessa, wrapped in a trench coat, screaming and pointing toward the mansion doors.
Then, the massive double doors of the estate swung open.
Luca walked out alone.
He wore no coat against the pouring rain, just his white dress shirt and black trousers, walking down the grand marble steps with deliberate, unhurried arrogance.
Behind him, unseen by the Bellinis, dozens of red laser dots appeared on the chests and foreheads of Silvio’s men.
Moretti snipers had taken the roofs, the parapets, and the treeline.
Silvio threw his arms up in fury as Luca approached the fountain, shouting words that were captured by the courtyard microphone system.
"You dare humiliate my daughter in front of the commission?!" Silvio roared over the sound of rain and thunder.
"You strip her family ring off her hand and throw her into the street like a common whore?!"
Luca stopped five paces from the older don, hands casually tucked into his pockets.
"Your daughter attempted to poison my nine-year-old son, Silvio," Luca’s voice boomed through the courtyard speakers, clear and deadly.
"She lied!" Vanessa shrieked from behind her father, lunging forward.
"He's making it up because of that filthy maid!"
Luca didn't even look at her.
He pulled a small silver USB drive from his pocket and tossed it onto the wet hood of Silvio's lead vehicle.
"That drive contains high-definition security footage from the prep kitchen last night," Luca stated flatly.
"It shows your daughter bribing the pastry chef ten thousand dollars to substitute Ethan's allergen-free cake with pecan torte."
"It shows audio of her stating, word for word, that 'the brat needs to learn his place in this house, even if he leaves in an ambulance.'"
Silvio’s face lost all its color.
The older don slowly turned his head toward his daughter, his eyes widening in pure horror.
"Vanessa..." Silvio whispered, his voice trembling through the microphone.
"Is this true?"
Vanessa stumbled backward, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"Daddy, he was ruining everything!" she cried hysterically.
"Luca cared more about that sickly brat than he did about our wedding!"
Silvio closed his eyes, a deep groan of defeat escaping his chest.
In the mafia code of Chicago, harming an innocent child of another boss was an unforgivable death sentence.
"You broke the ancient laws, Silvio," Luca continued, taking a step forward.
"By rights, I should execute both of you right here by the fountain."
"The commission would back me without a second thought."
Silvio dropped his hands to his sides, signaling his fifty armed men to lower their weapons.
The older man looked suddenly eighty years old, broken by the monstrous foolishness of his spoiled child.
"What do you want, Moretti?" Silvio croaked, his voice cracking.
"Transfer the northern distribution shipping docks to the Moretti name by noon today," Luca demanded, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.
"Hand over the pastry chef to Marco within one hour."
"And put your daughter on a flight to Sicily by sunset."
"If she ever touches American soil again, she dies."
"If you ever approach my estate again, your entire bloodline burns."
Silvio swallowed hard, looking up at the red sniper dots dancing across his chest.
"Agreed," Silvio said, bowing his head in total submission.
He grabbed Vanessa by the collar of her coat, ignoring her hysterical wailing, and threw her into the back of his limousine.
Within two minutes, the convoy of fifty men turned around and sped out through the shattered gates.
Luca stood alone in the rain, watching them leave.
Up in the panic room, Ethan let out a tiny gasp.
"Daddy won," he whispered, looking up at me with shining eyes.
May you like
"Yes, sweetheart," I said, a tear of relief rolling down my cheek.
"Your daddy won."
