Chapter 6 - The Traitor's Banquet
The silence in the cabin was heavier than the storm raging outside. Luca stared at the list in his hand, the paper trembling slightly. Donato Moretti. The man who had taught Luca how to shoot, how to negotiate, how to lead the family. He was the one orchestrating the downfall from the inside. "He brought Vanessa into the family," Luca said, his voice hollow. "Donato arranged the introduction. He pushed for the engagement. He told me it would solidify our hold on the north side." "He wanted a puppet," Margaret said softly from the sofa. "Vanessa is ambitious, but she’s arrogant. Donato knew he could use her hatred for Helen's bloodline to manipulate her. He funds her little trafficking ring to keep her distracted while he sells your shipping routes to the Falcones." I looked at the rosary in my hand. Marisol had discovered the truth. She must have found this list in Vanessa’s belongings. She planted it in my mother’s coat, knowing I would eventually find it, hoping I would show it to Luca. "Is Marisol alive?" I asked, a cold dread pooling in my stomach. Luca’s jaw set. "If Donato knows she took this list, she’s dead." "We have to go to the police," Katie cried, burying her face in a pillow. "This is too big! We can't fight the mafia!" "The police are on this list, Katie," I told her gently, pointing to the paper. "We can't trust anyone." "You can trust me," Luca said, turning to look at us. The hollow shock had vanished. The man standing in the cabin now was the terrifying, calculating boss who had conquered the Chicago underworld. "I will not let them touch you. But I have to end this tonight, before Donato realizes I have the list." "How?" I asked. "Tonight is the Feast of San Gennaro," Luca said, checking his watch. "Every captain in my syndicate, including Donato, is currently gathered at the Grand Hotel downtown for the annual banquet. I was supposed to join them after the dinner party at my estate." "You're going to walk into a room full of traitors?" my mother gasped. "No," Luca said, walking over to an old wooden chest in the corner of the cabin. He unlocked it, pulling out a heavy tactical vest and two automatic weapons. "I am going to walk into a room full of my men, and I am going to show them exactly who has been selling their lives to the Falcones." "It's a suicide mission," Margaret shook her head. "Vanessa will be there. She’ll have the Falcone muscle backing Donato." "Let me go with you," I said. The entire room stared at me. Luca stopped loading a magazine, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Absolutely not." "Emma, are you insane?" my mother grabbed my arm. "Listen to me," I stepped forward, my voice firm. "Vanessa's entire claim to power rests on her being the sole Bellini heir. Donato is using her bloodline to legitimize his coup. If I walk into that room, if I stand in front of the captains and prove I am the true Bellini heir, her authority shatters. The captains won't follow a usurper." "It's too dangerous," Luca growled, stepping into my space. "I am not putting you in the crossfire." "I am already in the crossfire, Luca!" I shouted back, not backing down. "She tried to sell my sister! She fired Marisol! She ruined my mother’s life! I am done hiding in safe houses while other people fight my battles. I am a Bellini. Let me use it." Luca stared at me. His chest heaved, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. He found none. He reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed across my cheekbone. "You are the bravest woman I have ever met." "Then take me with you." Thirty minutes later, the armored SUV was speeding back toward downtown Chicago. My mother, Katie, and Margaret remained safely locked inside the cabin. The city lights blurred past the rain-streaked windows. I was wearing a tactical jacket Luca had given me over my maid’s uniform. The contrast was absurd, but I had never felt more powerful. "When we go through those doors," Luca said, his eyes on the road, "you stay directly behind me. Do not speak unless I tell you to. Donato will try to spin the narrative." "What about Richard Vale?" I asked. "Richard is a pawn," Luca dismissed. "But he’s a pawn who knows where the bodies are buried. We’ll deal with him later." We pulled up to the service entrance of the Grand Hotel. Luca bypassed his own security team at the front, using a keycard to access the freight elevator. We rode up to the penthouse ballroom in heavy silence. My heart was hammering so loudly I was sure Luca could hear it. The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. The hallway was empty, but through the double oak doors at the end of the corridor, I could hear the murmur of a hundred voices and the clinking of silverware. Luca drew his weapon, holding it down at his side. He didn't kick the doors open this time. He pushed them open slowly, confidently, and stepped into the massive, chandelier-lit banquet hall. I stepped in right behind him. The room went dead silent. A hundred men in expensive suits stopped eating. At the head table sat Donato Moretti, a silver-haired man with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him, wearing a stunning red evening gown, sat my cousin, Vanessa. And sitting directly across from her was Richard Vale. Vanessa’s smug smile vanished the second she saw me. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. "Luca," Donato stood up, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture, though his eyes darted to the gun at Luca’s side. "Nephew. You're late. And you brought... the help." "She's not the help, Donato," Luca said, his voice echoing through the silent ballroom. He walked slowly toward the head table, the sea of mobsters parting for him. "And you are not my family." Donato frowned, feigning confusion. "What is the meaning of this? Put the gun away, Luca, you're embarrassing yourself." Luca didn't raise the gun. Instead, he reached into his pocket and threw the wooden rosary onto the center of the pristine white tablecloth. It landed with a heavy thud next to Donato’s wine glass. "I found Marisol's insurance policy," Luca said coldly. Donato’s eyes flicked to the rosary, and for a fraction of a second, the mask slipped. Pure panic flashed across the older man's face. But before Luca could speak again, Richard Vale suddenly stood up. He wasn't looking at Luca. He was looking at Vanessa, a terrified, desperate expression on his face. "You promised me protection!" Richard yelled at Vanessa, his voice cracking. "You said the Moretti boy wouldn't be a problem!" Vanessa stood up abruptly, a small, silver derringer appearing in her hand from beneath the table. But she didn't point it at Luca. She pointed it directly at Richard Vale’s chest. "I lied," Vanessa said coldly, and pulled the trigger.
