Chapter 10 - The Sovereign’s Gambit
The grand corridor of the Moretti estate felt completely different beneath my feet. Only weeks ago, I had walked these marble floors with downcast eyes, terrified of catching the sharp glare of Gianna or the lethal scrutiny of the guards stationed at every doorway. I had limped down this exact hall with a throbbing ankle while Luca watched from the shadows, measuring my silence against the cruelty of his former world.Now, my hand was buried in his, the heavy platinum chain of the Moretti emerald resting cold and deliberate against my collarbone.Marco stood at the bottom of the twin curved staircases, a secure satellite phone pressed to his ear, his jaw set in stone. Surrounding him were six of Luca’s top lieutenants—men who rarely entered the residential wing unless blood had already spilled. The moment our leather-soled shoes clicked against the polished travertine above them, every single head snapped upward.A suffocating hush descended over the foyer.Marco lowered the phone, his sharp, battle-hardened eyes locking onto me. He didn’t look at my dress, nor did he look at the bruise that still faintly tinted my wrist. His gaze fixed squarely on the brilliant green stone resting against my chest.It was the stone worn by every Moretti matriarch since the family planted its flag on the shores of Lake Michigan a century ago. Gianna had demanded it for three years; Luca had locked it away in the family vault.Now, it was mine."Boss," Marco said, his voice deep and carefully modulated. "It’s Don Carmine Falcone. The New York Commission is on line one. They heard about the explosion at the south warehouse, and they heard Gianna’s father mobilized the Bellandi crew. They want to know who commands the city."Luca didn’t quicken his pace. He led me down the stairs with slow, imperial grace, his thumb rhythmically stroking the back of my hand. Every movement exuded an terrifying, effortless violence—the kind of calm that precedes a Category 5 hurricane."Put him on speaker, Marco," Luca said quietly.Marco hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting toward the lieutenants, then tapped the glass screen of the device and held it out.The rasping, gravel-laced voice of Carmine Falcone crackled through the foyer. "Moretti. Chicago is bleeding in the streets, and rumors say you broke your vows with the Bellandi bloodline over a stray girl who cleans your floors. The Commission won’t tolerate a civil war on the Midwest transit lines. Either you fix this marriage by midnight, or New York steps in to clean the board."The room grew so cold I could almost see my breath. One of the lieutenants shifted uncomfortably, his hand twitching near his holster.Luca stopped at the foot of the stairs, standing half a step behind me, his free hand resting possessively on my hip. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't shout."Falcone," Luca murmured, the velvet timbre of his voice cutting through the speaker with lethal clarity. "You speak of my house as if you hold the deed. Let me clarify what happened this morning. The Bellandi family tried to dictate my bed, my ledgers, and my future. In response, their south docks are currently burning, and Gianna is on a one-way flight out of the country.""And the girl?" Falcone spat. "You think you can rule the Five Families' western flank with an unnamed ghost at your side?"Luca looked down at me. In the golden light of the chandelier, his dark eyes held a storm of fierce, unyielding devotion."She is not an unnamed ghost," Luca said, his voice echoing off the limestone walls with absolute finality. "Her name is Clara. And from this second onward, an insult to her is a declaration of war against the Moretti throne. If New York sends one car across our state line, Carmine, I won't send them back in pine boxes. I will bring the fire to Manhattan."With a flick of his fingers, Luca signaled Marco to sever the call.The line went dead.Silence hung heavy in the foyer, thick enough to choke on. The lieutenants stood frozen, staring at me as if seeing an empress rise out of the ashes."Marco," Luca commanded, his voice returning to business. "Assemble the captains at the River North safehouse in one hour. We rewrite the territorial borders tonight.""Yes, Boss," Marco answered, bowing his head respectfully—not just to Luca, but, for the first time, to me.***
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