Chapter 7 - The Secret in the Bloodline
The sterile, white hallway of the clinic suddenly felt like a tomb.
I stared at the four suited men advancing slowly down the corridor, their silenced weapons raised and steady.
“He told me exactly who your father really was.”
Elias Vance’s words echoed in my ear, twisting my panic into profound confusion.
"My father?" I whispered into the phone, backing up until my shoulder hit the heavy double doors of the surgical ward. "My father was a factory worker. He died when I was a baby."
A cold, mocking chuckle vibrated through the speaker.
"That is what your mother told you, Hannah," Elias purred. "But your mother was a very clever woman. She lied to protect you from the life she ran away from."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my hands shaking violently.
"Your father wasn't a factory worker," Elias stated, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Your father was Giovanni Rossi. The former Underboss of the New York Commission. The man Antonio Moretti assassinated twenty-six years ago to consolidate his power in the Midwest."
I stopped breathing.
The world tilted on its axis.
"No," I gasped, shaking my head frantically. "No, you're lying. I'm just a maid."
"You are the last surviving heir of the Rossi bloodline," Elias corrected, his tone shifting into ruthless business. "And according to the old laws of the Commission, the child of a murdered Don has the right to claim the territory of the man who killed him."
My mind raced, slamming pieces of an impossible puzzle together.
That was why Frank Moretti had looked at me with such shock when he realized I was protecting Leo. That was why my mother had always insisted we stay hidden, moving constantly during my childhood.
She wasn't running from debt. She was hiding me from the mafia.
"The Commission doesn't want Luca to rule Chicago," Elias explained smoothly over the phone. "We want a puppet. We want you, Hannah. If you claim the Moretti territory by right of blood vengeance, the Commission will back you. We will install you as the figurehead of the Chicago Syndicate, and New York will control the Midwest."
I stared at the four men closing in on me, five feet away now.
"And if I refuse?" I whispered.
"Then my men will walk into that surgical room behind you," Elias said coldly, "and they will put a bullet in Leo Moretti’s brain while he sleeps. Followed by one in yours."
The line went dead.
I dropped the phone. It clattered loudly against the linoleum floor.
The lead suited man stepped forward, gesturing with his pistol toward the exit.
"Come quietly, Miss Rossi," the man ordered. "Or the boy dies."
I looked at the heavy double doors behind me. Leo was in there, helpless, recovering from the bullet he took to save my life. I couldn't let them kill him.
I raised my hands in surrender.
"Okay," I breathed, tears spilling over my lashes. "I'll go with you. Just leave him alone."
The men grabbed me roughly by the arms, dragging me away from the surgical ward and shoving me toward the clinic's rear fire exit.
They pushed me out into the freezing morning air, hauling me toward a black, unmarked van waiting in the alleyway.
They threw me into the back of the van, slamming the heavy doors shut.
The vehicle lurched forward, speeding away from the clinic and deep into the heart of Chicago.
I sat in the pitch-black cargo hold, my knees pulled to my chest, sobbing silently. I had traded my life for Leo’s. I was going to be forced to become a puppet for the New York mafia, stripping the Moretti family of their empire.
If Luca found out I was a Rossi, he would think I had infiltrated his home on purpose. He would hate me.
We drove for nearly an hour before the van finally ground to a halt.
The rear doors swung open, blinding me with harsh, industrial halogen lights.
Two men hauled me out, dragging me into a massive, abandoned warehouse near the docks. The air smelled of old fish and stagnant water.
In the center of the vast, empty space sat a heavy wooden table surrounded by folding chairs.
Sitting at the head of the table was Elias Vance. He was an older man, sharp-featured, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that screamed old money. He poured himself a cup of coffee from a silver thermos, looking entirely relaxed.
"Welcome, Hannah," Elias smiled, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Please, sit."
The guards shoved me into the chair.
"Sign the papers," I spat, my voice shaking with a mixture of terror and fierce anger. "I'll sign whatever you want. Just promise me you won't touch Leo or Luca."
Elias chuckled, taking a slow sip of his coffee.
"I can't promise that, my dear," Elias said smoothly. "Luca is currently sitting in a federal holding cell, refusing to speak. But he is a resourceful man. Once he makes bail, he will come looking for you. And when he realizes you are a Rossi... he will kill you himself to protect his territory."
He slid a thick, leather-bound document across the table.
"This is a formal petition to the Commission," Elias explained, tapping the paper. "It states that as the heir of Giovanni Rossi, you claim the Moretti territory as blood payment for your father’s murder. Sign it, and the Commission will officially sanction the execution of both Luca and Leo Moretti."
I stared at the paper in absolute horror.
"You promised you wouldn't hurt Leo!" I screamed, slamming my hands on the table.
"I lied," Elias stated simply, his smile vanishing. "The Moretti bloodline must be eradicated to secure the territory. Sign the paper, Hannah. Or my men will return to the clinic and finish the job."
He placed an expensive fountain pen on top of the document.
I looked at the pen, trembling violently.
If I signed it, I was ordering the execution of the man who had saved me, and the man who had tried to protect me.
If I didn't sign it, they would kill Leo in his hospital bed.
I slowly reached for the pen. Tears blurred my vision as my fingers wrapped around the cold metal.
I pressed the nib to the signature line.
"Good girl," Elias purred in victory.
But before the ink could touch the paper, a deafening, thunderous crash echoed through the warehouse.
The heavy steel loading bay doors on the far side of the building were violently blown off their hinges.
A massive, armored black SUV tore into the warehouse, tires screaming on the concrete floor. It didn't slow down. It barreled directly toward the center table.
Elias shouted in panic, diving out of his chair as the SUV slammed into the table, splintering the heavy wood into a million pieces and sending the document flying into the air.
The SUV skidded to a halt, the doors flying open instantly.
Four heavily armed men poured out, raising assault rifles and laying down suppressing fire that sent Elias’s men scrambling for cover.
And stepping out of the driver’s seat, wearing a blood-stained white shirt and holding a heavy Glock in each hand, was Luca Moretti.
"You forgot one thing about Chicago, Elias," Luca roared over the gunfire, his eyes burning with a lethal, untamed fury.
May you like
He aimed his guns directly at the New York advisor.
"I don't wait for bail."
