Chapter 7 - The syndicate dinner
The rain lashed heavily against the massive windows of the estate as night fell. Lorenzo sat in his underground study, the yellow ribbon resting on his desk. Marco, his trusted underboss, stood by the door, loading a suppressed handgun.
She took the bait, Lorenzo said, his dark eyes locked on the security monitors. Vivien just left the estate in her private car. She told the guards she was going to a spa in the city.
Marco smirked. We tracked her GPS. She’s heading straight to an abandoned warehouse in the meatpacking district. The Moretti family uses it to launder money. She’s selling out the mother of your child, boss.
Lorenzo stood up, grabbing his black overcoat. Let’s go. Keep a heavy guard on Elena and Mia. If anyone tries to enter their wing, kill them.
The drive to the warehouse was a tense, silent cinematic sequence of black SUVs cutting through the rainy New York streets. Lorenzo’s mind was cold and entirely focused. He had spent three years mourning a woman he thought he hallucinated, raising a child he loved fiercely but didn't understand. Now, the woman was in his house, and the enemy who drove her away was within his grasp.
They arrived at the warehouse, parking in the shadows. Lorenzo and Marco slipped inside through a side door, taking out two Moretti guards with brutal, silent efficiency. They crept up the metal stairs to the catwalk overlooking the main floor.
Down below, illuminated by a single harsh industrial light, Vivien stood in her expensive trench coat. Opposite her was Carlo Moretti, the ruthless head of the rival family.
I don't have time for your games, Vivien, Carlo growled, smoking a cigar. You promised us the location of the woman who saved Duca’s life. The woman who can give us leverage over him.
I have her, Vivien said confidently, crossing her arms. She is hiding in plain sight. She is working as a maid in Lorenzo’s own house. He has no idea who she is.
Carlo’s eyes widened, then he threw his head back and laughed. The great Lorenzo Duca has his greatest weakness scrubbing his floors? That is poetic. Give me her name, and I will give you the money.
Vivien held out her hand. First, you guarantee that when you hit the estate, you make it look like a tragic robbery. Lorenzo has to survive, but the maid dies. I need Lorenzo alive so I can comfort him and take the ring.
Up on the catwalk, Marco looked at Lorenzo, waiting for the order to fire.
Lorenzo raised a hand, signaling him to wait. He pulled out a small, highly sensitive directional microphone and recorded the entire conversation. He didn't just want to kill Vivien; he wanted to destroy her completely in front of the entire mafia council. He needed her treason on tape.
Suddenly, a heavy metal door slammed open on the warehouse floor. A Moretti soldier ran in, looking panicked. Boss! We’ve got a problem. Duca’s men are surrounding the building!
Vivien’s face turned stark white. She looked around frantically. How? I wasn't followed!
Carlo pulled his gun, aiming it directly at Vivien. You set us up, you stupid bitch!
Before Carlo could pull the trigger, the glass skylight above shattered. Lorenzo’s men repelled into the warehouse, guns blazing in a spectacular, tactical assault. Lorenzo vaulted over the catwalk railing, landing heavily on a shipping crate below, his gun drawn.
It wasn't a shootout; it was a massacre. The Moretti men were caught entirely off guard and neutralized within seconds.
Carlo tried to run, but Lorenzo dropped down in front of him, delivering a devastating, bone-crunching kick to the rival boss's knee. Carlo collapsed, screaming in agony.
Vivien cowered behind a metal pillar, crying hysterically. Lorenzo didn't even look at her. He signaled two of his men.
Bag her, Lorenzo ordered coldly. Take her back to the estate. Put her in the basement holding cell. I have a special event planned for her tomorrow.
Lorenzo grabbed Carlo by the throat, pulling the rival boss close to his face. You spent four years hunting the mother of my child, Carlo. You burned her life to the ground.
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Carlo choked, spitting blood. You’re too late, Duca. I already sent a cleanup crew to your estate. While you’re here playing hero, they are taking the girl.
Lorenzo’s heart stopped. He dropped Carlo and sprinted for the exit, screaming for Marco to get the cars. The trap had been a double-blind.
