Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Estate
The dining hall was an arena of gilded hostility. A chandelier of Venetian crystal hung above a forty-foot banquet table laden with roasted meats, vintage wines, and poisonous political tension.
Don Carmine Moretti sat at the opposite head of the table. He was a silver-haired patriarch with dead, calculating eyes and a face lined with decades of cruelty. To his right sat Bianca, smirking behind her wine glass. Surrounding them were eight of Carmine’s most loyal soldiers, all dressed in black suits.
At the other end sat Lorenzo, exuding imperial dominance. Elena sat to his right, her posture regal, wearing an emerald velvet gown that showcased her stunning curves and the Moretti family crest necklace resting against her collarbone—a piece of jewelry Lorenzo had personally fastened around her neck an hour earlier. Mia had been left upstairs under the watchful protection of Lorenzo’s six most trusted personal bodyguards.
“A toast,” Carmine said, raising his crystal goblet, his voice raspy like dry leaves. “To Lorenzo. For years, we worried the Moretti bloodline would end with his cold heart. And yet, he secretly kept a jewel hidden in Queens, raising his daughter away from the family business. How... romantic.”
The capos chuckled softly, a chorus of wolves testing the perimeter.
“My private life was kept private for a reason, Carmine,” Lorenzo replied smoothly, slicing into his steak without looking up. “The city is full of rats who prey on women and children when they lack the spine to face a man head-on.”
Carmine’s smile didn't reach his eyes. He turned his predatory gaze toward Elena. “And you, my dear Elena. You must be an extraordinary woman to tame our Devil. Tell me, where did you two meet? Lorenzo has never been known to frequent the civilian boroughs.”
Elena felt the cold sweat pooling at the small of her back, but she remembered the iron in Lorenzo’s eyes. She lifted her chin, meeting Carmine’s gaze without flinching.
“We met where men like you never look, Don Carmine,” Elena said, her voice steady and melodious. “In the quiet spaces. Lorenzo doesn't need to announce his power to those who truly see him.”
Bianca scoffed loudly. “How poetic for a girl who was scrubbing my floor yesterday morning! Tell me, Elena, did you find your pride in the linen closet, or did Lorenzo buy it for you along with that dress?”
Lorenzo’s steak knife paused. The room’s temperature plummeted ten degrees.
Before Lorenzo could speak, one of Carmine’s servers stepped forward to refill Elena’s wine glass. Elena reached for her napkin, but her hand accidentally brushed the server’s sleeve. Her trained instincts—honed by years of living with an undercover detective—caught a flicker of unnatural movement.
The server’s thumb was rubbing the rim of the glass with a pale, waxy residue.
*Aconite.* Mateo had taught her about contact poisons used by the syndicates.
Elena didn't scream. She didn't flinch. Instead, she coolly took the filled glass by the stem, stood up, and walked around the table toward Bianca.
“What are you doing?” Bianca sneered, drawing back.
“Since you are so concerned with my beverage, Bianca,” Elena said with icy grace, “why don't you have the first sip? To celebrate our new sisterhood.”
Elena extended the glass. Bianca rolled her eyes and reached to push it away. “Get that away from me, you—”
“Drink it,” Lorenzo’s voice cracked across the room like a gunshot.
He was on his feet, his 9mm pistol already drawn and pointed directly at the forehead of the server who had poured the wine. The man began to shake violently.
“Lorenzo, what is this madness?” Carmine demanded, his hand moving under the table.
“Hands on the table, Carmine!” Lorenzo roared, his authority crushing the room into submission. “Gianni, test the rim of that glass.”
Gianni, Lorenzo’s second-in-command who stood near the doors, stepped forward with a chemical swab kit used for narcotics and toxins. Within five seconds of touching the crystal, the swab turned a violent, fatal purple.
The server collapsed to his knees, babbling in Italian: “Don Carmine paid me! He said the girl would sleep and never wake up! Please, Don Lorenzo!”
*BANG.*
Lorenzo didn't blink as he pulled the trigger. The server slumped forward onto the marble floor.
Elena did not look away. She stood tall in her velvet dress, holding the poisoned glass, proving to every man in the room that she was no helpless victim.
Lorenzo turned his smoking weapon toward Don Carmine. “You broke the ancient law. You brought poison to my table, against my woman.”
Carmine rose, his face pale with fury. “You have no proof I ordered this! You’re losing your mind over a whore and another man’s bastard!”
Lorenzo lunged across the table, his massive hand wrapping around Carmine’s throat like an iron vice, lifting the elder gangster off his feet.
“If you speak of them again,” Lorenzo whispered, his voice vibrating with demonic fury, “I will not just kill you, Carmine. I will erase your name, your blood, and your legacy from the earth. Leave this house. Now.”
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Lorenzo threw him to the floor. Carmine coughed violently, scrambling to his feet, dragged out of the room by his terrified capos and a weeping Bianca.
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