Chapter 9 - THE WAR COUNCIL
For the next twelve hours, Claire lay in the medical bay, listening to the muffled sounds of helicopters taking off from the estate and the frantic radio chatter of the guards.
Upstairs, the triplets and Rosie sat in a circle on the playroom floor. The boys were uncharacteristically quiet.
“Is your mom going to be okay?” Enzo asked Rosie, his voice trembling.
Rosie nodded bravely, though her eyes were red from crying. “My mom is the toughest lady in the world. She fought a crazy landlord once with a broom. She’s not gonna let a bullet stop her.”
Mateo, the tough one, wiped a tear from his cheek. “She saved Leo. She took the bullet for him. Our other nannies ran away when we threw paint at them. Claire stayed when they threw bullets.”
The bond between the four children was cemented in that room. They weren’t employer and employee anymore. They were siblings. They were blood.
Across the city, Julian Rinaldi unleashed absolute hell. He didn’t negotiate. He didn’t send warnings. He led a tactical strike force directly into the heavily guarded Moretti compound in Brooklyn.
It was a massacre. Julian moved through the compound like a shadow of death, his men systematically dismantling the rival family’s operation. When Julian finally kicked open the doors to the executive office, he found Don Moretti trying to load a shotgun.
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Julian didn’t give a speech. He didn’t offer a final monologue. He raised his weapon and fired once.
The war was over.
