Chapter 2 - THE BROKEN ALTAR
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The ballroom chandeliers seemed to dim under the sudden, suffocating weight of Dominic Moretti’s silence.
Forty-six guests stood paralyzed, their champagne flutes suspended in mid-air.
The joyous wedding waltz playing from the brass orchestra sputtered and died into complete quiet.
Dominic did not take his dark eyes off Daniel Whitmore.
The thirty-four-year-old mafia boss took two slow, deliberate steps toward the groom, the fabric of his tailored trousers whispering against the polished marble floor.
His black-and-gray tattoo crept up the side of his neck like smoke rising from a smoldering fire.
Rose Moretti stood in the center of the floor, the delicate white lace of Margaret’s handmade veil trembling around her pale shoulders.
Her bridal bouquet lay crushed on the marble between them, white gardenia petals bruised and scattered.
“Daniel,” Dominic said, his voice deceptively calm and as sharp as a straight razor.
“Turn around and look at my cousin.”
Daniel’s throat bobbed hard, his hands twitching against the satin lapels of his white tuxedo jacket.
He did not turn toward his new bride.
He couldn't bring himself to meet Rose’s shattered, tear-stained eyes.
Instead, his gaze darted desperately toward the tall French doors leading to the grand terrace.
Two armed Moretti sentries immediately stepped into the doorway, their hands resting flat against their black tactical holsters.
The room was completely sealed.
“Dominic, please,” Aunt Lydia whispered, stepping in front of the groom with her emerald silk gown rustling like dry grass.
“This is a private family matter that does not belong in front of the guests.”
“A private matter?” Dominic repeated, his tone dropping an octave until it rumbled through the floorboards.
“You allowed a man with a secret child to swear holy vows to my cousin thirty minutes ago.”
“You brought forty-six of our allies here to witness a holy sacrament built on a foundation of rot.”
Lydia’s manicured fingers tightened around her diamond necklace until the gold chain dug into her throat.
“I did what was necessary to protect Rose’s future,” Lydia snapped, her aristocratic facade cracking at the edges.
“Daniel’s family has political connections on the city council that our shipping lines desperately need.”
“A shipping permit is worth trading Rose’s entire life?” Dominic asked coldly.
Rose took a step toward her husband, her face completely drained of color.
“Daniel, answer me,” she wept, her voice trembling through the silent hall.
“Whose child were you talking about?”
“Who was that woman crying in your car outside my mother’s house?”
Daniel finally raised his head, but his eyes were hollowed out by fear and shame.
“Her name is Mia,” Daniel choked out, tears finally breaking over his eyelashes.
“Mia Alvarez.”
A collective gasp echoed across the banquet tables.
Uncle Vincent dropped his silver fork onto his porcelain plate with a sharp, ringing clatter.
Mia Alvarez was the daughter of the late Marco Alvarez, one of the most respected dock foremen who had worked for the Moretti family for thirty years.
Marco had died three years ago in an industrial accident at the south-side container terminals.
“Marco’s girl?” Dominic whispered, his eyes narrowing into two slits of pure, lethal obsidian.
“You took advantage of a dead worker’s grieving daughter?”
“We loved each other, Dominic!” Daniel shouted, his voice cracking with desperate, frantic emotion.
“We were going to get married three years ago!”
“Then what happened?” Dominic demanded, taking another step that closed the distance between them to a single foot.
Daniel looked at Lydia, his jaw trembling with bitter, self-loathing resentment.
“Your aunt happened,” Daniel sobbed, pointing a shaking finger directly at Lydia’s face.
“Three years ago, my real estate firm went bankrupt after the river zoning permits were revoked.”
“I owed four million dollars to the Russian loan sharks in Bridgeport.”
“They threatened to put a bullet through my father’s skull and burn my sister’s home to the ground.”
Daniel wiped his nose with the back of his trembling hand, looking at Rose with raw agony.
“Lydia came to my office with a certified cashier’s check for four million dollars.”
“She told me she would clear my family’s debts and give me twenty percent of the Moretti warehouse revenues.”
“On one condition.”
Rose pressed both hands against her mouth, a muffled, heartbreaking sob escaping her lips.
“The condition,” Daniel whispered, “was that I sign over full custody of my unborn child to a closed agency in Indiana.”
“And marry Rose the moment she returned from her studies in Florence.”
Margaret Ellis took a step forward from my side, her weathered hand clutching my black housekeeping sleeve.
“And where is that little girl, Daniel?” Margaret cried out, her voice full of a mother’s ancient pain.
“Where is Mia’s baby?”
Daniel closed his eyes, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.
May you like
“Lydia has her,” Daniel whispered.
“Lydia has kept Mia and my three-year-old daughter locked inside the caretaker’s cottage on the northern bluffs for thirty-six months.”
