Chapter 3 - THE HOSTAGE IN THE BLUFFS
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The revelation struck the ballroom like an explosive charge tearing through the foundation.
Rose stumbled backward, her knees buckling beneath the heavy silk skirts of her bridal gown.
I rushed forward instinctively, catching her by the elbows before she could crash against the marble floor.
Margaret was right behind me, wrapping her frail, loving arms around her daughter’s trembling shoulders.
“I’ve got you, Rosie,” Margaret whispered, holding her daughter against her faded blue dress.
“Mommy is right here.”
Rose buried her face in Margaret’s neck, weeping so violently that the lace veil shook around her dark curls.
Dominic turned slowly toward his aunt, his posture terrifying in its absolute, unmoving stillness.
Lydia took two hurried steps back toward the wedding cake, her chest heaving beneath her emerald gown.
“You kept a mother and her three-year-old child captive on Moretti property?” Dominic asked.
His voice did not rise.
It remained a deadly, quiet whisper that made several hardened capos at the tables look away.
“They weren't captive, Dominic!” Lydia argued frantically, her voice pitching into a defensive shriek.
“Mia had a full pantry, a television, and a five-thousand-dollar monthly stipend!”
“She agreed to stay on the property until the wedding was finalized and Daniel’s family debts were cleared!”
“She agreed under duress while you held a four-million-dollar noose around her lover’s neck,” Dominic said.
He walked over to the head table where his glass of vintage scotch sat untouched.
He picked up the heavy crystal tumbler, looking down at the amber liquid for three long seconds.
Then, without looking at his aunt, he poured the scotch onto the white linen tablecloth, watching the dark stain spread across the fabric.
“You stole Rose from Margaret twenty-four years ago by telling a sick mother that her child didn't want her,” Dominic said.
“You spent twenty-four years feeding Rose lies about being abandoned.”
“And when you needed to buy a husband with political ties to cement your branch’s power in this syndicate, you did it again.”
“You stole another mother’s baby and locked her in a cottage by the lake.”
Dominic set the empty glass down with a sharp, hollow thud that echoed to the high ceiling.
“You are a cancer in this family, Aunt Lydia.”
“Dominic, you can’t speak to me this way!” Lydia screamed, her vanity completely shattered.
“I am your father’s sister! I carry the Moretti name!”
“The Moretti name stands for blood and honor,” Dominic replied coldly.
“You possess neither.”
He turned his gaze toward his head of security.
“Marcus.”
“Yes, boss,” Marcus answered, stepping out from the perimeter of the room.
“Take twelve men and three tactical vehicles to the northern bluffs.”
“Breach the caretaker’s cottage immediately.”
“Bring Mia Alvarez and her daughter here to this ballroom.”
“If anyone wearing Lydia’s private security badges attempts to raise a weapon, put them in the ground.”
Marcus bowed his head crisply.
“Right away, Mr. Moretti.”
Daniel collapsed onto his knees in the center of the dance floor, burying his face in his hands, weeping openly.
“Rose, please forgive me,” Daniel begged toward the bride.
“I was a coward! I was terrified of what the Russians would do to my family!”
Rose slowly pulled away from Margaret’s embrace.
She looked down at the man she had promised her life to less than an hour ago.
She reached up with trembling fingers, unclasped the diamond tennis bracelet Daniel had given her as a wedding gift, and let it fall onto his bowed head.
“You let a woman hold her child in a cage for three years just so you could drive an expensive car, Daniel,” Rose said, her voice turning to ice.
“You are not a coward.”
“You are a monster.”
She turned her back on him completely, taking Margaret’s calloused hand in hers.
Dominic looked over the heads of the forty-six guests, his dark eyes locking directly onto mine.
“Nora.”
My heart skipped a beat as I stood beside the two weeping women.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Take Rose and Margaret to my private study on the third floor.”
“Ensure my mother’s private physician, Dr. Rossi, examines Margaret’s heart.”
“Nobody enters that room without my verbal clearance.”
I nodded firmly.
“Yes, sir.”
As I guided Margaret and Rose toward the private elevator, Dominic’s deep voice carried across the room once more.
“And Aunt Lydia?”
Lydia froze, her hand trembling against the edge of the dessert table.
“Sit in that chair beside your ruined cake.”
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“Do not drink. Do not speak. Do not breathe too loudly.”
“Because when Mia Alvarez walks through those doors, your trial begins.”
