Chapter 3 - The Blood Oath of The Forgotten Heir
“Nobody is taking this child anywhere,” Luca’s voice boomed, drowning out the sudden panic of the dinner guests.
He stepped directly in front of Michael and Ivy, shielding them with his broad shoulders.
The three men at the door stopped, their hands instinctively moving toward the inside of their jackets.
Fifty wealthy guests began scrambling toward the side exits, desperate to escape the escalating violence.
I stood frozen against the wall, the smell of spilled wine sharp in my nose, my eyes locked on the silver crest on the lead enforcer’s lapel.
Two crossed swords beneath a weeping rose.
The exact same emblem my grandmother, Elena, had carved into the wooden rocking chair she used to sit in while singing me to sleep.
“Luca, be reasonable,” Carlo sighed, slipping Ivy’s passport back into his pocket. “This is a legal matter. Signed and notarized in Rome. You have no authority here.”
“I am the head of the Moretti family,” Luca growled, rolling his shoulders back. “In Chicago, I have all the authority. If your men take one more step into my home, they won't walk out.”
Vanessa was still sobbing on the floor, her red satin gown pooled around her like spilled blood.
“Luca, please!” she begged, crawling toward his shoes. “Just marry me! If we get married tomorrow, my father’s debt is transferred to you! Carlo will leave Ivy alone!”
Michael looked down at the woman he had once loved.
The mother of his child.
“You want him to marry you to pay for your father's sins?” Michael spat, his voice thick with disgust. “You used our daughter as a bargaining chip, Vanessa.”
“I had no choice!” Vanessa screamed, tears ruining her expensive makeup.
She yanked her purse toward her and aggressively dug through it.
She pulled out a crumpled, yellowed piece of heavy parchment.
“Look at it!” she cried, holding the contract toward Luca. “My father signed this when I was sixteen! Long before I met Michael. Long before Ivy was born! I was sold to the Romano family to cover his gambling debts.”
Luca snatched the paper from her hands.
His eyes scanned the faded Italian writing.
I watched his jaw tighten.
“It says here that if the Bellini family fails to pay, their firstborn child becomes the property of the Romano syndicate,” Luca read aloud, his voice dripping with venom.
He looked at Vanessa. “You're your father's firstborn.”
Vanessa swallowed hard, her whole body trembling.
“Yes. Carlo didn't come here for Ivy,” she whispered, burying her face in her hands. “He came for me. The contract demands I marry his ruthless, psychotic son in Rome.”
The room went completely still.
Another reversal. Another devastating truth.
Vanessa hadn't sold Ivy. She had offered Ivy as a temporary replacement to save herself from a forced marriage to a monster.
“When I got pregnant with Ivy,” Vanessa cried, “I realized that legally, she is a blood descendant of the Bellini family. I told Carlo that if he gave me time to marry you, the Moretti wealth would pay the debt. If not... he could take Ivy instead of me.”
Michael stepped forward and struck the heavy oak dining table so hard the crystal glasses shattered.
“You coward!” Michael roared. “You offered our nine-year-old daughter to the Romanos to save your own skin?!”
“I was trying to find a way to save us both!” Vanessa sobbed.
Carlo Romano clapped his hands slowly.
“A touching family drama,” Carlo sneered. “But time is up. Luca has called off the wedding. The debt is unpaid. I will take the child as the contract allows.”
Carlo nodded to the three men at the door.
They stepped forward.
“No!” Ivy screamed, burying her face into Michael’s leg.
Luca reached inside his tailored suit jacket, his hand resting on the grip of a hidden firearm.
Michael did the same.
The tension in the room was suffocating. A bloodbath was seconds away.
I couldn't just stand there.
Not while a little girl cried. Not while the man who had just defended my dignity was about to start a mafia war in his dining room.
I took a deep breath.
I stepped away from the wall, walked directly to the center of the room, and stood between Luca and Carlo’s men.
“Emily, get back!” Luca shouted, his eyes wide with panic. “It's not safe!”
I ignored him.
I looked directly at the lead enforcer. The man wearing my grandmother’s crest.
I reached up and unclasped the thin silver chain around my neck.
I pulled it out from under my stained maid’s uniform.
Dangling from the chain was a heavy, antique silver ring.
The man with the crest stopped dead in his tracks.
His eyes locked onto the ring resting in my palm.
I spoke in the thick, ancient dialect of the Naples underground. The exact dialect my grandmother had forced me to learn.
“He who wears the weeping rose answers only to the bloodline of Napoli.”
The enforcer’s face drained of color.
Carlo Romano gasped, dropping his elegant cane onto the hardwood floor.
“Where...” Carlo stammered in English, pointing a shaking finger at my chest. “Where did a little American housemaid get the Signet of the First Family?”
I stood tall, ignoring the wine dripping from my hem.
“My grandmother's name was Elena,” I said clearly. “And you are standing in the presence of her only living heir.”
The three enforcers instantly dropped to their knees, bowing their heads toward the floor.
Luca stared at me, completely speechless.
But Carlo Romano didn't bow.
May you like
Instead, a wicked, terrifying smile spread across his face.
“Elena’s granddaughter,” Carlo whispered, his eyes gleaming with dangerous greed. “Do you have any idea how much money the Syndicate will pay me for bringing you back to Rome alive?”
