Chapter 11 - THE HEIR TO THE COMMISSION
The heavy iron poker slipped slightly in my sweaty palms.
I stared at the old man in the pristine gray suit, my mind desperately trying to process his words.
I gave that watch to my son thirty years ago. Before he ran away to become a school teacher.
My father. Arthur Collins. The gentle man who corrected history essays at the kitchen table.
“You’re lying,” I whispered, taking a step back.
Don Salvatore didn’t look like a ruthless mafia boss anymore. For a brief, startling moment, he looked like a devastated old man seeing a ghost. He took a slow step toward me, leaning heavily on his silver-tipped cane.
“Arthur was my only son,” Salvatore said, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “He hated this life. He hated the blood. He changed his name, disappeared into the city, and tried to pretend the Commission didn’t exist. But I always knew where he was.”
He looked at the gold watch peeking out of my pocket.
“I let him live his quiet life,” Salvatore continued, “because I thought it would keep him safe. But Luca’s father found him anyway. He stole his money, and the stress killed my son.”
Luca stepped forward, placing himself between me and the old man, completely ignoring his own bleeding shoulder.
“If you knew where Arthur was,” Luca said, his voice deadly low, “then you knew Hannah existed. Why did you wait twenty-five years to come for her?”
Salvatore’s eyes hardened, shifting back to the ruthless leader of the national syndicate.
“Because a woman cannot lead the Commission,” Salvatore stated coldly. “The old laws forbid it. My bloodline ended with Arthur. That is why I came for the Bellini boy today. Leo is the closest male relative by marriage to the old families. He was to be my puppet. My heir.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow.
They didn’t want Leo because he was a Bellini. They wanted him because my father had no sons, and the old guard refused to follow a woman.
“But looking at you now,” Salvatore murmured, his eyes locking onto mine, sizing me up. “Standing here, facing down a tactical hit squad with a fireplace poker... you have your grandfather’s fire. It’s a shame you were born a girl.”
He raised his cane and pointed it at Luca.
“Kill the Moretti boy,” Salvatore ordered his men without raising his voice. “And find my grandson.”
Six heavily armed men raised their weapons, aiming directly at Luca’s chest.
“No!” I screamed, throwing myself in front of Luca, shielding him with my own body.
“Hannah, move!” Luca roared, trying to pull me behind him, but I locked my arms around his waist, refusing to budge.
“If you want to kill him, you have to shoot through me!” I shouted at Salvatore, my voice echoing through the destroyed foyer. “You have to kill the last living piece of your own son!”
Salvatore’s men hesitated. They looked at their boss.
The old man’s jaw tightened. “Step aside, child. He is a Moretti. His father stole your inheritance.”
“He is the man I love!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “He protected me! He protected my family! He is more of a man of honor than anyone in your disgusting Commission!”
I glared at the men holding the guns.
“My name is Hannah Collins,” I declared, my voice ringing with a fierce, unbreakable authority I didn’t know I possessed. “I am the daughter of Arthur Collins. I am the rightful heir to this syndicate. And I am telling you to stand down!”
The silence in the room was absolute.
Even the wind howling through the broken windows seemed to hold its breath.
The armed men exchanged nervous glances. The laws of the mafia were deeply rooted in blood and respect. They were mercenaries, yes, but they were also traditionalists. And the true granddaughter of the Boss of Bosses was standing in front of them, claiming her birthright.
Salvatore’s face turned purple with rage. “You do not have the authority to give orders! You are a woman! You are nothing!”
“She is everything,” Luca’s deep voice echoed behind me.
Luca didn’t stay behind my shield. He stepped forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me. Despite his wound, he looked like a king defending his queen.
“She is the Donna of this city,” Luca announced to the armed men. “She holds the deeds. She holds the legitimate wealth. And if any of you pull a trigger today, you won’t just be killing a Moretti. You will be murdering the royal bloodline of your own Commission. You will be hunted by every family in the country for treason.”
The logic was undeniable. The men slowly began to lower their weapons.
Salvatore saw his power slipping away in real-time. The patriarchal empire he had built was crumbling before a twenty-five-year-old former maid.
Desperation twisted the old man’s features.
“If they won’t do it,” Salvatore snarled, pulling a small, silver revolver from inside his gray suit jacket, “I’ll do it myself. I will purge the weakness from my bloodline.”
He aimed the gun directly at my chest.
He didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space.
But I didn’t feel the bullet.
Luca didn’t push me out of the way.
Instead, a second gunshot echoed from the shadows of the grand staircase, simultaneous with the first.
Salvatore gasped, his silver revolver falling from his hand. He stumbled backward, clutching his chest, a dark red stain blossoming across his pristine gray suit. He collapsed onto the marble floor, dead before he even realized what had happened.
I turned around, my heart pounding out of my chest.
Standing on the landing of the staircase, holding Luca’s discarded pistol with two shaking hands, was Leo.
He hadn’t run down the tunnel. He had stayed behind to protect us.
“Leo,” I breathed, rushing to my little brother and wrapping him in a massive hug.
He dropped the gun, crying into my shoulder. “I couldn’t let him hurt you, Hannah. I couldn’t.”
Luca walked over to Salvatore’s body. He looked at the remaining Commission men.
They didn’t raise their weapons. They looked at the dead boss, then looked at me, the woman who had just usurped the throne without firing a single shot.
Slowly, as one, the six men dropped their weapons onto the marble floor and took a step back, bowing their heads in a silent gesture of absolute submission.
The war was over.
I looked at Luca. He walked over to me, holding his bleeding shoulder, but his eyes were shining with a profound, overwhelming pride.
“You did it,” Luca whispered, resting his forehead against mine. “You broke the wheel, Hannah.”
May you like
But as we stood there in the ruins of the foyer, the sound of sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder by the second. The FBI was coming.
And I had a massive decision to make about what kind of queen I was going to be.
