Chapter 10 - THE FALL OF THE TRAITORS
The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds, casting a golden light over the Moretti estate.
But down in the basement, there was no light.
Vivian Bellini sat shivering on a cold concrete floor. Her designer dress was ruined, her hair a tangled mess. The arrogance that usually radiated from her was completely gone, replaced by raw terror.
The heavy steel door scraped open.
Lorenzo stepped into the cell. He wasn't carrying a gun. He didn't need to. The sheer menace rolling off him was enough to make Vivian scramble backward against the wall.
"Lorenzo, please," Vivian sobbed, holding up her hands. "It was Vincent's idea! He forced me! He said if I didn't help him, he would kill me!"
"Do not insult my intelligence," Lorenzo said, his voice deadly quiet. "You procured the beta-blockers. You threatened the maid. You conspired to poison my daughter so you could play the grieving stepmother while Vincent stole my seat."
"No! I love you! I love Isabella!"
Lorenzo's expression twisted in disgust. "You don't know what love is. You are a parasite."
He stepped closer, towering over her.
"I am a man of business, Vivian. And you have cost me a great deal. But putting my daughter's life at risk... that is not business. That is a death sentence."
Vivian screamed as two of Marco's men stepped into the cell behind Lorenzo.
"Take her to the harbor," Lorenzo ordered, turning his back on her. "Make sure she understands what happens to people who try to break my family before you sink her."
"Lorenzo! No! You can't!" Vivian shrieked as the men dragged her away.
Lorenzo walked back upstairs. The estate was quiet. His men had spent the night cleaning up the blood and repairing the damage. The traitors within the ranks had been purged. The Russian shipment had been secured.
The Moretti empire was stronger than ever.
But as Lorenzo walked into the kitchen, none of that mattered.
He saw Sophia standing at the stove, cooking pancakes. Emma was sitting on the counter, her little legs swinging, babbling happily about a cartoon.
Isabella was sitting at the island, coloring a picture, looking healthier and brighter than she had in months.
Lorenzo stopped in the doorway, just watching them.
It looked like a family.
It felt like a family.
Sophia turned around and saw him. She smiled, a genuine, beautiful smile that made Lorenzo's breath catch in his throat.
"Good morning," she said. "I hope you like blueberry."
Lorenzo walked over. He didn't sit at the head of the formal dining table. He pulled up a stool next to his daughter at the kitchen island.
"Blueberry is my favorite," Lorenzo said.
Emma looked at him. She reached into her little pocket and pulled out another grass bracelet. It was slightly crushed, having survived the ordeal of the previous night.
She held it out to Lorenzo.
"For Papa," Emma said softly.
Lorenzo froze. He looked at the tiny, woven grass. Then he looked at the little girl who had called him Papa.
He looked at Sophia, who was blushing, her eyes wide.
May you like
Lorenzo gently took the bracelet from Emma's tiny hand. He slipped it over his massive, tattooed wrist.
"Thank you, Emma," Lorenzo whispered. "It's perfect."
