Chapter 2 - The Whispers in the Chapel
The grand ballroom cleared within six minutes under the threat of drawn weapons. Dominic’s security detail ushered the terrified politicians, mob bosses, and high-society guests out into the freezing night, locking the heavy iron gates of the estate from the inside.
Inside Dominic’s private, dark-paneled study, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Heavy velvet drapes blocked out the raging blizzard outside, while a single green banker's lamp illuminated the massive oak desk.
Vivienne sat pinned in a heavy leather armchair, two armed guards standing motionless behind her. She held an ice pack against her swollen cheek, but her icy blue eyes sparkled with ruthless confidence.
Across the room, Agatha sat on a velvet sofa, sipping warm tea from a porcelain cup. Her hands still trembled slightly, but her posture had returned to that of an unyielding matriarch.
Dominic stood by the high glass windows, his midnight-black tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, revealing his broad chest and shoulder holster. He held an old leather-bound ledger in his broad hand—a book recovered from his late father Don Carmine’s private desk.
"Speak, Vivienne," Dominic commanded, his deep voice carrying a terrifying rumble. "Before I let Frank take you down to the lower holding cell."
Vivienne let out a mocking laugh. "You can kill me, Dominic, but it won't change the truth. Your father Carmine Ravelli didn't leave you this empire out of love. He left it to you because of a blood covenant signed forty years ago in Sicily."
Dominic turned around slowly, his piercing blue-gray eyes locking onto her face. "My father built this syndicate with his own hands."
"Your father was barren, Dominic!" Vivienne spat, her voice laced with venom. "Carmine Ravelli couldn't have children! Ask Agatha! Ask her who your biological father really was!"
Dominic shifted his gaze toward his mother. Agatha set her teacup down with a soft click. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.
"Do not listen to her snakes, Dominic," Agatha said softly, her voice filled with quiet authority. "Vivienne is twisting old ghosts to divide this family before the midnight trust transfer."
"Am I, Agatha?" Vivienne challenged, leaning forward in her chair. "Then tell Dominic why the third page of the Ravelli family charter is missing from the estate safe! Tell him why the Moretti family in Chicago holds a signed document claiming Dominic belongs to their bloodline!"
Dominic’s mind moved with rapid, lethal precision. The Moretti syndicate had been the Ravelli family's fiercest rival for thirty years. If Vivienne’s claim was true, Dominic’s right to command the Ravelli empire under the traditional charter was legally void.
Dominic picked up his secure satellite phone from the desk, dialing Frank in the lower security hub.
"Frank," Dominic ordered flatly. "Bring the master key to the private chapel behind the estate."
"Boss," Frank replied over the speaker. "The chapel security sensors were tripped two minutes ago. Someone just forced the iron door beneath the altar."
Dominic’s jaw set like iron. He drew his heavy tactical sidearm, racking the slide with a crisp, lethal click.
He looked at Vivienne, then at his mother. "Nobody leaves this room."
As Dominic walked toward the door, Agatha stood up from the sofa, her hand reaching out toward him. "Dominic... wait! Do not open the altar vault tonight!"
May you like
Dominic stopped at the doorway, looking back over his broad shoulder. "Why, Mother?"
Agatha’s voice cracked with deep, painful emotion. "Because what is inside that vault will force you to choose between your crown and your mother."
