Chapter 8 - The Black Rose of New York
The man in the white suit didn't draw a weapon.
He didn't need to. The quiet authority radiating from him was far more dangerous than the guns wielded by Carlo’s thugs.
Luca stepped in front of me again, his posture rigid.
“Who are you?” Luca demanded, keeping his weapon trained on the man’s chest.
The man offered a polite, practiced smile.
“My name is Julian Thorne,” he replied, his accent polished and wealthy. “I represent the Black Rose Syndicate in New York. And I have been searching for you, Miss Carter, for a very long time.”
Michael tightened his grip on Ivy, pulling her further behind a massive stone pillar.
“New York has no business in Chicago,” Luca growled.
“Normally, I would agree,” Julian said smoothly, slowly reaching into his jacket pocket.
Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger.
But Julian only withdrew a folded, heavy cream-colored envelope. He held it up by two fingers.
“However, when the true heir to the Naples throne reveals herself by smashing a pocket watch against a traitor's skull,” Julian chuckled softly, “borders tend to blur.”
He tossed the envelope onto the marble floor.
It landed right at the tips of my ruined shoes.
“What is that?” I asked, my voice remarkably steady despite the fear gnawing at my stomach.
“An invitation,” Julian answered. “Tomorrow night, the remaining heads of the five families will gather in New York to officially crown the new leader of the Syndicate. Without Carlo Romano to interfere, the throne is yours, Emily. But you must claim it in person.”
I stared at the envelope.
“And if I don't?” I asked.
Julian’s polite smile faded, replaced by something much colder.
“If the heir refuses the throne, the families will fracture. A blood war will tear across every major city in America,” Julian said quietly. “Starting right here in Chicago. Your mother’s little apartment will be the first casualty.”
My blood ran cold.
My mother.
“Don't you dare threaten her family,” Luca snarled, stepping forward.
“It is not a threat, Mr. Moretti. It is a fact of our world,” Julian replied calmly. He adjusted his pristine cuffs. “You have twenty-four hours, Miss Carter. A private jet is waiting at O'Hare.”
Julian turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing as quietly as he had arrived.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I looked down at the cream-colored envelope. The black rose wax seal seemed to stare back at me, mocking the simple, quiet life I had woken up with that morning.
Luca crouched down and picked up the envelope. He didn't open it. He just held it, staring at my name written in elegant calligraphy.
“He’s bluffing,” Michael said from the shadows, stepping out with Ivy clinging to his neck. “The five families have been disorganized for decades. They can't launch a war.”
“They don't have to,” Luca replied quietly, looking up at me. “Julian is right. Without a recognized leader, the factions will rip each other apart trying to claim the territory. Emily is the only one who can legitimize the peace.”
“By doing what?” I asked, my voice finally trembling. “Moving to New York and becoming a mob boss?”
Luca stood up. He reached out and gently took my hands.
“By marrying someone strong enough to hold the throne for you,” Luca said softly.
I blinked, the words sinking in.
“Julian didn't come here just to give you an invitation, Emily,” Luca explained, his eyes dark with worry. “He came to assess you. If you go to New York alone, they will force you into an arranged marriage with one of their own capos to control your bloodline.”
My heart sank.
I had just escaped the cruelty of Vanessa’s world, only to be dragged into an even darker one.
“I won't let them use you,” Luca vowed, his grip on my hands tightening. “I called off my wedding tonight. I am free. If you walk into that meeting as my wife, the Moretti family will back your claim. Nobody in New York will dare challenge us.”
I stared into Luca’s eyes.
He was offering me the ultimate protection. He was offering to merge his empire with my birthright, not to control me, but to save me.
But before I could answer, a small tug on my apron broke the heavy silence.
I looked down.
Ivy was standing beside me, looking up with her big, soulful brown eyes.
She reached into the pocket of her little pink dress and pulled out a small, braided friendship bracelet made of blue and yellow thread.
She held it up to me.
“Aunt Vanessa said I was a secret,” Ivy whispered, her voice heartbreakingly sweet. “But Daddy says I don't have to hide anymore. Will you be my new aunt, Miss Emily?”
Tears sprang to my eyes.
I knelt down on the cold marble floor, completely ignoring the wine stains on my uniform.
I took the small, frayed bracelet from her hands and tied it around my wrist, right next to my grandmother’s heavy silver ring.
“I would be honored, Ivy,” I whispered, pulling the little girl into a tight hug.
Michael placed a gentle hand on his daughter’s head, looking at me with profound gratitude.
I stood back up, looking at Luca.
I didn't want to be a mafia queen. I didn't want the power, or the money, or the violence.
But I wanted the man standing in front of me. And I wanted to protect the family we were suddenly building.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “We go to New York.”
Luca’s expression softened into a look of fierce pride.
“Let’s go home,” Luca said, wrapping his arm around my waist.
We walked out of Union Station, leaving Carlo Romano tied up by Mrs. Higgins for the police to find.
The drive back to the Moretti estate was quiet. A peaceful calm had finally settled over the chaos of the night.
When we walked through the grand front doors of the mansion, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden glow over the foyer.
But the peace was shattered instantly.
Sitting in the center of the foyer, resting on a silver platter on the entryway table, was a small wooden box.
It hadn't been there when we left.
Luca’s arm tightened around me. He drew his gun, slowly approaching the table.
He used the barrel of his weapon to flip open the lid of the wooden box.
I peeked over his shoulder.
Inside the box rested a single, blood-red ruby necklace.
I gasped, stumbling backward.
“Emily?” Luca asked, catching my arm. “What is it?”
I couldn't breathe. My chest seized with pure panic.
“That necklace,” I whispered, pointing a shaking finger at the box. “My mother wears that necklace every single day.”
Underneath the ruby was a small, handwritten note.
Luca picked it up and read it aloud.
“Did you really think I would wait until tomorrow? Bring the ring to the docks by sunrise, or your mother drowns.”
May you like
It wasn't Julian Thorne.
It was a trap.
