Chapter 7 - THE MATRIARCH
“Your mother?” I repeated, my voice barely audible over the idling engine of the coroner’s van. “I thought your mother passed away years ago.”
“She did,” Luca said, his eyes scanning the chaotic street as if expecting a ghost to step out from the shadows. “She died of heart failure when I was twenty. Or at least, that’s what my father told the family.”
Daniel stepped closer, glancing nervously at the surrounding police officers. “Boss, if Teresa Moretti is alive, and she has Claire’s mother…”
“It means she knew,” Luca finished grimly. “It means she knew about my father’s affair. She knew about Claire. And she’s been waiting in the shadows for twenty-five years to take her revenge.”
My blood ran cold. The explosive charge in the apartment hadn't been set by Marcus Bellini’s men. It had been set by the scorned wife of a mafia Don, punishing the mistress who had stolen her husband’s heart, and the daughter who threatened to steal her son’s empire.
“Why kill the nurse?” I asked, looking down at the burnt body of Maria in the bag.
“Because Maria worked for Bellini,” Luca reasoned, zipping the body bag shut. “Teresa must have intercepted the hit. She killed Bellini’s asset, took your mother, and left the nurse’s body to send us a message. She wants the ledger.”
“Why does she want the ledger?”
“Because if she proves Bellini murdered my father, she takes control of the Commission,” Luca explained, pulling me away from the van and back toward our SUV. “And if she destroys the evidence of your bloodline in that journal, she ensures the entire Moretti fortune stays entirely within her legitimate family. With me.”
“She blew up a building to protect you?” I asked, horrified by the twisted, violent maternal logic.
“She blew up a building to protect her pride,” Luca corrected harshly. “Teresa was ruthless. My father spent his entire life trying to shield me from her cruelty. I should have known he wouldn't just let her die of natural causes.”
We reached the SUV. Luca didn't get into the driver’s seat. He opened the back door and gently pushed me inside, climbing in right beside me.
“Daniel, drive,” Luca ordered. “Get us to the 4th Street warehouse.”
Daniel threw the heavy vehicle into gear, peeling away from the crime scene, leaving the flashing lights and the ashes of my old life behind.
“The note said to come alone,” I said, panic rising again as I clutched the heavy leather ledger still hidden in my apron pocket. “If she sees you, she’ll kill my mother.”
“She won't kill anyone while she still needs this book,” Luca said, resting his hand reassuringly on my knee. “I won't let you walk into a trap alone, Claire. You are my sister. You are a Moretti. We face this family together.”
The words You are a Moretti sent a strange, powerful jolt through my system. For twenty-five years, I had been Claire Bennett, the struggling maid, the invisible girl. Tonight, I was the daughter of a king, riding into battle beside a brother who had just claimed me as his own.
The drive to the warehouse district was short and tense. The abandoned industrial area near the river was a graveyard of rusted metal and broken glass.
Daniel killed the headlights two blocks away.
“I’ll set up a sniper overwatch on the roof across the street,” Daniel whispered, grabbing a sleek, suppressed rifle from a hidden compartment in the trunk. “If Teresa makes a move on either of you, I drop her.”
“No,” Luca commanded, his voice dead serious. “Do not fire unless Claire’s life is in immediate danger. Teresa is my mother. I will handle her.”
Daniel nodded grimly and vanished into the shadows.
Luca turned to me. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing his shoulder holster. He drew a sleek, compact pistol and pressed it into my hands.
“I don't know how to use this,” I stammered, staring at the weapon in terror.
“Point and pull,” Luca said softly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “If things go wrong, you do not hesitate. You protect yourself, and you protect your mother. Understood?”
I swallowed hard, gripping the cold metal, and nodded.
We walked toward the massive, decaying brick warehouse. The heavy iron loading doors were chained shut, but a small side door was propped open, a faint, flickering orange light spilling out into the alleyway.
Luca stepped in first, leading the way.
The inside of the warehouse was cavernous and damp. A single construction lantern sat on an old wooden shipping crate in the center of the room, casting long, dancing shadows against the brick walls.
And standing beside the crate, holding a silver-tipped walking cane, was an elderly woman.
She was dressed impeccably in a dark, tailored suit. Her silver hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon. Despite her age, she radiated an aura of absolute, terrifying authority.
It was Teresa Moretti.
“You brought the boy,” Teresa sighed, her voice aristocratic and sharp. She didn't look afraid. She looked disappointed. “I explicitly told you to come alone, Claire.”
I stepped out from behind Luca, gripping the ledger tight against my chest with my left hand, keeping my right hand hidden in my coat pocket with the pistol.
“Where is my mother?” I demanded, my voice echoing in the empty space.
Teresa smiled, a cold, empty expression. She tapped her cane against the concrete floor.
From the shadows behind her, two large men stepped forward. They were dragging a woman between them.
“Mom!” I screamed.
My mother was bruised, her clothes torn and covered in soot from the explosion, but she was alive. They forced her to her knees beside Teresa.
“Claire, stay back!” my mother cried out, her eyes wide with terror. “Don't give them anything!”
“Quiet, Maria,” Teresa snapped, looking down at my mother with absolute disgust.
“Her name is Elena,” I yelled, furious.
“Her name doesn't matter,” Teresa said coldly. She looked up at Luca. “Hello, my son. It’s been a long time.”
Luca stood perfectly still, his face an unreadable mask of stone.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Luca said softly.
“Your father exiled me,” Teresa corrected, stepping closer to the light. “He found out I was poisoning his little waitress. He couldn't stomach the scandal of a divorce, so he faked my death and locked me away in a secure facility in Switzerland. But when he died... the payments stopped. The guards left. I came back to reclaim my city.”
“You came back to murder innocent people,” Luca growled, stepping in front of me.
“I came back to clean up your father’s mess!” Teresa fired back, her composure finally cracking into rage. “He was going to give half our empire to a bastard child! He was going to dilute the Moretti bloodline with the spawn of a diner waitress!”
Teresa pointed her cane at me.
“Give me the ledger, Claire,” Teresa demanded. “Hand over the only proof of your bloodline, and I will let you and your pathetic mother walk out of here alive. You can go back to scrubbing floors where you belong.”
I looked at my mother, kneeling on the cold concrete, terrified but looking at me with such fierce, protective love.
I looked down at the heavy leather ledger in my hands. The book that contained the truth. The book that proved I wasn't just a maid. I was a Moretti.
“Give it to her, Claire,” Luca whispered softly, not taking his eyes off his mother. “It’s not worth her life.”
I took a deep breath.
I stepped forward and held the ledger out.
Teresa’s cold eyes gleamed with victory. She reached out with her free hand to take the book.
But as her fingers brushed the leather binding, I didn't let go.
Instead, I looked Teresa dead in the eye, and I smiled.
“You’re right, Teresa,” I said, my voice steady and completely devoid of fear. “I am a maid. I clean things up.”
With my hidden right hand, I pulled the compact pistol from my coat pocket and aimed it directly at the construction lantern sitting on the crate beside her.
“And right now,” I whispered, “I’m taking out the trash.”
I pulled the trigger.
May you like
The bullet shattered the lantern. Kerosene exploded outward, instantly igniting the dry, wooden shipping crate into a massive fireball, engulfing the space between us in a wall of flames.
Teresa screamed, stumbling backward, dropping her cane as the fire roared to life.
