Chapter 5 - THE DON'S COMMAND
The heavy silver pistol in Lorenzo’s hand felt completely weightless as he stared at his father.
“Save her.”
The voice was like grinding stones, barely a whisper, broken by five years of silence and disuse. But the authority behind the words was absolute. It was the voice of the Don.
Lorenzo holstered his weapon slowly, his mind reeling.
“You can speak?” Lorenzo breathed, stepping closer to the wheelchair. “Papa, the doctors said you were locked in. They said the damage was irreversible.”
Giovanni closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his weathered cheek. The effort of speaking and moving his head had clearly exhausted the last reserves of his fragile strength.
He didn't speak again. He simply looked down at the small table beside him.
Lorenzo followed his gaze.
Resting on the table was the receipt for the $34.99 heated blanket. The one with “For John” written on the back.
And sitting right next to it was the plate of perfectly roasted chicken.
Lorenzo looked back at his father, the pieces of a deeply disturbing puzzle rapidly snapping together in his mind.
“John,” Lorenzo realized aloud. “The staff… they call you Old John.”
Giovanni’s eyes darkened with a quiet, furious confirmation.
“And the blanket,” Lorenzo said, holding up the receipt. “Nora bought this for you, didn't she? The pregnant maid.”
Giovanni managed a single, agonizingly slow blink. Yes.
A wave of profound shame and absolute rage washed over Lorenzo.
For five years, he had stayed in Manhattan, running the empire, believing the reports from Mrs. Gable that his father was receiving world-class medical care and living in luxury.
Instead, the founder of the deadliest mafia family on the East Coast had been stripped of his name, neglected in a freezing room, and treated like an inconvenience.
And the only person in this massive 20,000-square-foot estate who had shown him an ounce of dignity was a destitute, pregnant twenty-three-year-old girl.
“She fed you,” Lorenzo whispered, looking at the plate of chicken. “While they left you with nothing.”
Giovanni blinked again. Yes.
Then, the old man’s frail finger began tapping against the wooden table again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He pointed toward a small, rusted iron lockbox sitting on the bottom shelf of the bedside table.
Lorenzo frowned. He knelt down and pulled the heavy lockbox out.
It was an antique. A relic from his father’s early days building the syndicate. Lorenzo knew this box well; it was where Giovanni used to keep his most sensitive ledgers. But Lorenzo had assumed it was empty, cleaned out when the stroke hit.
“You want me to open this?” Lorenzo asked.
Giovanni’s eyes locked onto the box with fierce intensity.
Lorenzo used the butt of his pistol to smash the rusted lock. The metal gave way with a sharp crack.
He opened the lid.
Inside the box were two items.
The first was a thick stack of bearer bonds, easily worth three million dollars in untraceable cash.
The second was a small, velvet jewelry box.
Lorenzo picked up the velvet box and popped it open.
Resting on a bed of faded white silk was an incredibly heavy, ornate gold ring. The center stone was a massive, flawless ruby, surrounded by small diamonds.
It wasn't just a piece of jewelry.
It was the Signet of the Capo. The ring Giovanni had worn when he ruled the Commission. The ring that commanded absolute loyalty from every family on the Eastern Seaboard.
Lorenzo stared at the ring in shock.
“You never gave this to me,” Lorenzo said softly, looking at his father. “When I took over the family, the bosses demanded the ring as proof of succession. I had to forge alliances through blood because I didn't have your blessing.”
Giovanni’s jaw tightened. With an incredible, painful effort, he forced his hand toward the box.
His trembling finger tapped the bearer bonds. Then, it tapped the velvet box.
Finally, he pointed a shaking finger toward the door. Toward the master suite where Nora and her premature baby were resting.
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
“You want me to give the money to Nora?” Lorenzo asked.
Giovanni blinked. Yes.
“And the ring?” Lorenzo asked, his voice tightening. “You want me to give the Capo’s ring to a maid?”
Giovanni didn't blink. He stared directly into Lorenzo’s gray eyes, the furious, uncompromising fire of the Don burning brilliantly through his paralyzed body.
He managed to rasp three final words before his strength completely failed him.
“She… is… family.”
The old man’s head slumped forward, exhaustion completely overcoming him.
Lorenzo stood up, clutching the velvet box and the stack of bearer bonds.
His father hadn't just been neglected. He had been testing them all. And out of an army of highly paid staff, elite doctors, and ruthless lieutenants, only a desperate, pregnant girl had passed the test.
Giovanni wasn't just rewarding her. He was naming her an untouchable member of the Moretti bloodline.
Lorenzo walked out of the room, his mind racing.
He headed toward the master suite to check on Nora.
Two bodyguards were stationed outside the heavy double doors. They nodded respectfully as Lorenzo approached.
“How is she?” Lorenzo asked quietly.
“Sleeping, boss,” the guard replied. “The baby is bundled tight. She’s breathing okay for now.”
Lorenzo pushed the doors open softly.
The master suite was massive, dominated by a huge four-poster bed. A roaring fire was crackling in the hearth, keeping the room incredibly warm for the tiny infant.
Nora was fast asleep in the center of the bed, looking pale and exhausted, but peaceful.
Tucked safely against her chest, swaddled in soft cashmere blankets, was Lily.
Lorenzo walked silently to the edge of the bed.
He looked at the young woman who had scrubbed his floors and saved his father’s dignity.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the thick stack of bearer bonds, and placed them gently on the bedside table.
Then, he took the velvet box containing the Capo’s ring and placed it right beside the money.
“You will never scrub another floor,” Lorenzo whispered to the sleeping girl.
He turned to leave the room.
But as he reached the door, he noticed something crumpled on the floor near the fireplace.
It was a piece of Nora’s oversized maid uniform that had been cut away during the frantic delivery in the kitchen.
Something shiny caught the light from the fire.
Lorenzo frowned. He walked over and picked up the bloody fabric.
Pinned to the inside of Nora’s collar was a small, silver broach.
It was shaped like a viper coiled around a dagger.
Lorenzo’s blood turned to ice.
It wasn't a cheap piece of jewelry.
It was the insignia of the Viper syndicate. The most ruthless, violent rival family in New York. The family Lorenzo had been at war with for three years.
Lorenzo stared at the sleeping girl in the bed, his hand tightening around the bloody fabric.
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