Chapter 5 - Midnight at the Bellini Estate
Before we could leave for Philadelphia, we had a more immediate problem: Vanessa’s father, Don Salvatore Bellini, had just called the front gate.
His armored motorcade was already pulling up the long, tree-lined driveway of the Moretti estate.
“He knows Marcus failed,” Thomas said, stepping into the hallway. His hand was freshly wrapped, his eyes vigilant. “Salvatore never visits in person unless he intends to bury someone or force a surrender.”
Luca looked out the second-floor window. Four black Cadillac Escalades were rolling to a halt outside the grand foyer. Armed men in dark suits stepped out, taking tactical positions along the perimeter.
“Daniel,” Luca spoke into his radio. “Do not draw weapons unless they breach the inner threshold. Keep our men in the shadows. Let Salvatore think he has the upper hand.”
Luca turned to me. “Lily, take Thomas to the service tunnels beneath the wine cellar. There’s an emergency exit that leads through the woods to the carriage house. If anything goes wrong inside this room, you take the sedan parked behind the greenhouse and drive straight to Philadelphia.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with them,” I said before I could stop myself.
Luca paused. A subtle, rare softness touched his dark eyes.
“I’ve survived Salvatore Bellini my entire life, Lily. But I need to know Elena’s location remains secure. You hold the key to everything now.”
“Then let me get the backup hard drive from the study,” I urged. “If Salvatore’s men search this floor, they could wipe the cloud server.”
Luca nodded. “Two minutes. Meet Thomas in the cellar.”
I ran back into the study, grabbed the encrypted external drive, and slid the small pistol into the inner pocket of my coat.
As I made my way toward the service stairs, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the grand entrance below.
“Luca!” a booming, raspy voice echoed through the marble hallway.
Salvatore Bellini had entered.
He was a man in his late sixties, with slicked-back silver hair, a tailored Italian coat draped over his broad shoulders, and cold, dead eyes that had ordered dozens of assassinations. Flanking him was his son Marco—tall, athletic, with a cruel sneer and a fresh bandage over his left knuckle.
The man Thomas fought in the garden, I realized with a shudder.
I ducked behind the mahogany balustrade on the mezzanine, peering through the shadows.
“Salvatore,” Luca greeted him from the bottom of the grand staircase, his hands casually resting in his slacks pockets. “You usually send an emissary when you want to speak with me.”
“An emissary is for business,” Salvatore growled, walking across the marble floor with a heavy silver-tipped cane. “Family matters require a father’s presence. Where is my daughter?”
“Vanessa is resting upstairs,” Luca said evenly. “She had a rather stressful morning dealing with garden vandalism.”
Marco Bellini took a step forward, his eyes flashing. “Don’t play dumb, Moretti. Where is Marcus? And where is the box?”
Luca tilted his head, looking at Marco with chilling disdain. “Is that how you speak in my house, Marco? Did your father forget to teach you how to address the head of the Moretti family?”
Salvatore raised his hand, silencing his son.
“Luca, let us not pretend,” Salvatore said, his tone turning oily and smooth. “We both know what your mother buried beneath those roses twenty years ago. It was a mistake. A piece of leverage meant to divide our families. Antonio and I built an empire that provides for hundreds of families across this state. Your mother’s sentimental foolishness threatened to tear it down.”
“My mother was murdered,” Luca said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, quiet register. “And you ordered it.”
Salvatore smiled, cold and devoid of remorse.
“Your mother forgot her place, boy. She thought her morality mattered more than our survival. She took something that belonged to me: the Morales ledger. And she hid the bastard child who held the key.”
Salvatore tapped his cane against the marble. Clack. Clack.
“Give me the coordinates to the girl, Luca. Marry Vanessa as planned on Saturday. We combine our operations, and you remain the king of this city. Refuse... and neither you, nor your staff, nor that wretched old gardener will see the sunrise.”
From the shadows above, my breath caught in my throat.
Luca didn’t flinch. He didn’t back down an inch.
He took a slow step toward Salvatore Bellini, looking the older mob boss dead in the eye.
“My mother was worth ten of you, Salvatore,” Luca said softly. “And before this week is over, I will see every brick of your empire reduced to ash.”
Marco reached beneath his jacket for his gun.
May you like
“Down!” Luca roared.
Gunfire erupted, shattering the glass chandeliers into a thousand raining crystals.
