Chapter 20 - The Unseen Hand
Three days later, peace descended over the Moretti estate like a golden morning sun. The newspapers were ablaze with headlines about the sudden "collapse" and "internal purge" of the Corvi family, while the Moretti Foundation announced a historic forty-million-dollar expansion across Brooklyn and Manhattan.
It was Gianna’s second birthday.
The rear gardens were decorated with white and pastel ribbons, balloons floating gently under the afternoon sky. Gianna, wearing a small lace dress that matched Mara’s, ran across the manicured lawn chasing a yellow butterfly, her squeals of pure joy echoing through the open air.
Mara sat by the stone fountain, looking down at the magnificent black diamond ring glittering on her left hand. The dark stone seemed to absorb the sunlight, a permanent symbol of the fierce love and absolute power she now held.
Salvatore walked over, carrying a wooden tray with two glasses of chilled Prosecco and a small slice of vanilla cake for Gianna. He set the tray on the stone table and sat beside Mara, pulling her gently against his side. Mara leaned her head onto his broad shoulder, feeling the deep, steady beat of his heart.
"You look peaceful," Salvatore murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
"I am," Mara smiled, watching Gianna tumble safely onto the grass, laughing as Luca pretend-chased her with a stuffed bear. "For the first time in my life, Salvatore, I don't feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Nothing will drop," Salvatore promised, his arm tightening around her waist. "Corvi is dead. Bellandi signed over his ports this morning and retreated to his country house. The Commission has recognized our union. You are safe. Gianna is safe. Our future is secured."
Mara turned her face up to his, about to seal the moment with a kiss, when the heavy wrought-iron security gate at the front of the estate creaked open.
Salvatore’s brow furrowed. He hadn't authorized any visitors today. Only his elite inner guard was stationed at the perimeter.
Footsteps echoed from the stone breezeway connecting the front drive to the private garden. Slow, rhythmic, deliberate footsteps—accompanied by the faint, clicking sound of elegant women’s heels against the flagstones.
Luca stopped chasing Gianna instantly. His face tightened as his hand dropped down to the concealed holster under his jacket. He quickly scooped Gianna into his arms, moving her behind a stone column.
Salvatore stood up smoothly, placing himself directly in front of Mara. His posture hardened into stone, the predator awakened once more. "Stay behind me," he ordered Mara in a low whisper.
Mara stood, her heart suddenly seizing with an icy, familiar dread. She peeked around Salvatore’s shoulder.
Emerging from the arched shadows of the breezeway was a woman dressed in an impeccably tailored crimson coat. She possessed striking, aristocratic beauty, with sharp emerald eyes, high cheekbones, and dark, glossy hair cascading over her shoulders.
Salvatore froze. His entire body turned rigid, his breath catching in his throat as if he had just been struck by lightning. The color drained from his face—a sight Mara had never seen before in the fearless Don.
"Salvatore," the woman said, her voice smooth, melodious, and hauntingly familiar.
"No..." Salvatore choked out, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with sheer disbelief. "It’s impossible. You died two years ago. I buried you with my own hands."
May you like
The woman stopped ten yards away. A faint, cruel smile curled the edges of her painted red lips. She ignored Salvatore and turned her piercing emerald gaze directly onto Mara, then looked toward Gianna hidden behind the pillar.
"You buried an empty casket, darling," the woman murmured softly, tilting her head. "Did you really think a few bullets could kill the true mother of your child? I’ve returned for what is mine, Salvatore... and it looks like you’ve let a little stray warm my bed while I was away."
