Chương 5 - The Phantom of Lisbon
The name Gabriel Mendes hung in the air of the study like a heavy smog.
Even Marco and Leo, hardened men who had seen everything in the criminal underworld, exchanged shocked looks.
Gabriel Mendes had been the undisputed king of the European shipping routes—a Portuguese billionaire whose container ships controlled thirty percent of the cargo entering the Atlantic ports. Five years ago, Mendes and his wife had been assassinated in a coordinated strike on his yacht off the coast of Lisbon. His immense fortune, his private port access rights, and his global shipping empire had been frozen in international probate courts because his only legal heir—his twenty-six-year-old daughter—had vanished without a trace on the night of the attack.
The world had assumed she was at the bottom of the Atlantic.
Alessandro stood motionless behind his desk, his eyes fixed on Rosa.
"Rosa?" Alessandro asked softly. "Is this true?"
Rosa stood firmly in the doorway, clutching Lily against her chest. Tears glistened in her dark eyes, but her chin remained held high.
"My real name is Rosaria Mendes," she said, her voice steady and clear. "When my father’s yacht was ambushed five years ago, his bodyguards threw me into the water before the secondary explosions destroyed the hull. I swam to a fishing boat. I knew the men who killed my parents were connected to the syndicate—men who had contacts in every major security firm in Europe and America."
She took a step into the room, her eyes locking onto Vincent Romano with cold, quiet hatred.
"I fled to New York with no money, no papers, and no one I could trust," Rosa continued. "I changed my name. I took the lowest job I could find—a dishwasher in a diner, then a cleaning woman for private estates. Four years ago, I applied for a job here."
Alessandro felt a cold realization wash over him. "You came to the Moretti estate because you knew I was the only man powerful enough to keep you hidden from the people who hunted you."
"At first, yes," Rosa admitted softly. "Your house was a fortress. Nobody looks for a Portuguese heiress in a apron cleaning toilets in upstate New York. But then..." She looked at Alessandro, her eyes filling with a complex mixture of warmth and sorrow. "...then I met you. Long before you were the Don. When you were still fighting your father's wars."
Isabella turned frantically toward her father. "Papa, this is insane! She's lying! She’s just a clever servant trying to steal the Moretti fortune!"
"Shut up, Isabella!" Vincent barked, his face pale and sweating. He knew the truth when he saw it. The Mendes family crest—a silver falcon over a golden anchor—had been stamped on every shipping container that passed through Chicago for twenty years. The resemblance between Rosa and her late father was unmistakable.
"If she is Rosaria Mendes..." Vincent muttered, his mind rapidly calculating the massive geopolitical shift in the underworld, "...then she controls the Atlantic maritime deeds. The deeds my family has been trying to acquire for a decade."
"She controls nothing until she claims them," Isabella argued desperate. "She has no papers! She has been a servant for four years!"
"She has me," Alessandro interrupted, his voice dropping into a tone of absolute, terrifying authority.
He stepped out from behind his desk and walked across the room until he stood directly beside Rosa. He placed his large, warm hand on her waist, pulling her and Lily gently against his side.
"Rosaria Mendes is under the personal protection of the Moretti family," Alessandro declared, his eyes burning into Vincent. "And as of this moment, the alliance between New York and Chicago is officially under review."
"Alessandro, you can't do this!" Vincent shouted, stepping forward. "We have a contract! The marriage agreement was signed by our councils!"
"The contract was predicated on the assumption that you were bringing stability to my borders," Alessandro replied coldly. "Instead, your daughter comes into my house, verbally abuses my family, and threatens my daughter. You have twenty-four hours to remove your men, your daughter, and your belongings from my estate, Vincent."
"And if I refuse?" Vincent growled, his hand creeping subtly toward his suit jacket.
May you like
In a fraction of a second, three suppressed handguns cleared their holsters. Marco, Leo, and Alessandro himself—who had drawn a matte-black pistol from beneath his armpit in a blur of motion—had their barrels pointed directly at Vincent’s chest and head.
"If you refuse," Alessandro whispered, "you will find out why my father called this house a fortress, and why no Romano has ever walked out of it alive."
