Chapter 17 - Bloodlines and Broken Vows
Three days after Silvio’s capture, the storm over Chicago cleared, leaving behind crisp autumn sunshine and an uneasy, watchful peace.
The Bellandi empire had collapsed entirely, absorbed into the Moretti syndicate or dismantled by federal indictments. The Council had formally ratified Luca Moretti as the undisputed Boss of the Midwest territory.
Yet the greatest challenge to our reign did not come from rival street soldiers or federal agents.
It arrived in a vintage Rolls-Royce bearing New York license plates.
I was sitting in the conservatory of the estate, reviewing the newly audited shipping ledgers with Nero resting his large, gray head comfortably on my lap, when the heavy oak double doors opened.
Marco stepped in, followed by an elderly man dressed in a bespoke three-piece pinstripe suit, leaning heavily on a carved ivory cane. His silver hair was slicked back, and his dark eyes were cold, calculating, and ancient.
Beside him walked an impeccably dressed middle-aged woman whose aristocratic features were set in a mask of rigid disdain.
"Clara," Marco announced softly, his tone warning me before he spoke. "This is Don Bernardo Moretti. Luca’s great-uncle... and the Chairman of the New York High Commission."
My heart gave a heavy thump, but I didn't flinch. I gently scratched Nero behind the ears, set my pen down on the glass table, and rose to my feet with fluid, natural grace.
"Don Bernardo," I greeted politely, bowing my head slightly. "Welcome to Chicago."
Bernardo Moretti didn't offer a greeting. He stopped five paces from me, leaning on his cane, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. They lingered on the emerald ring on my finger, then traveled up to the emerald necklace resting openly against my sweater.
"So this is the girl," Bernardo said, his voice like dry autumn leaves scraping across stone. "The housemaid who convinced my grand-nephew to burn down forty years of alliances with the Bellandi family."
The woman beside him sneered. "She looks like a common shop girl playing dress-up in family jewels. Take the emerald off, girl. You haven't earned the right to wear Moretti blood."
Before I could answer, the side door clicked open.
Luca stepped into the room. He wore no jacket, his white dress shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing the intricate mafia tattoos that mapped his history of violence. His face was pure, unadulterated thunder.
"Uncle Bernardo," Luca said, his voice dropping into a lethal, predatory register. "You entered my home without an invitation."
Bernardo turned slowly. "I don't need an invitation to inspect my family's heritage, Luca. The Commission sent me. New York is concerned that the Chicago seat has fallen into the hands of an infatuated boy who lets an untrained orphan pull his strings."
Luca crossed the room in three long strides, positioning himself directly beside me, his hand settling firmly over mine on the glass table.
"Speak to my wife with respect, Bernardo," Luca warned, his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous spark that made the older man’s jaw tighten. "Or you won't leave this state on two legs."
"Wife?" Bernardo scoffed. "There was no church wedding! No blessing from the Five Families! She is an outsider, Luca! Her blood carries no weight in our world!"
"Her blood is Thomas Vance’s blood!" Luca roared, the power of his voice rattling the delicate glass panes of the conservatory. "Her father was more honorable than any crooked Don sitting on your Commission! She saved this family from Silvio's treason while you sat in Manhattan counting your kickbacks!"
Luca leaned forward, inches from the old man’s face.
"Clara does not need your blessing, Uncle. She has mine. And if New York has a problem with the Moretti bloodline, bring your armies to the tollway. I will bury them alongside Silvio’s soldiers."
Bernardo stared at Luca, shocked by the sheer ferocity of his loyalty. The older man’s chest heaved, his hand gripping the ivory cane until his knuckles turned white.
Finally, Bernardo turned his gaze back to me.
May you like
"You have tamed a wolf, young woman," Bernardo whispered, his tone shifting from arrogance to reluctant, wary respect. "Let us see if you can keep him alive when the real war begins."
***
