Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House
The news of Dante Moretti’s public arrest at the Drake Hotel dominated every television station, newspaper, and social media feed in the country for the next forty-eight hours.
The video of Chicago’s most feared mafia boss weeping on his knees in handcuffs while his pregnant wife watched in silence went viral globally, racking up tens of millions of views.
In the master suite of the Moretti estate, Selena Ward was frantically stuffing designer handbags, diamond jewelry, and fur coats into three massive suitcases.
The house was completely dark. The staff had walked out twenty-four hours ago after their bank transfers failed, and the security team at the front gate had abandoned their posts to avoid being picked up by federal agents.
"Come on, come on!" Selena muttered to herself, trying to force a heavy zipper shut.
Suddenly, the lights in the grand bedroom flickered on.
Selena shrieked, dropping the handbag she was holding.
Standing in the doorway was Amara, flanked by two armed security guards wearing private enforcement uniforms, alongside Julian Vance holding a thick stack of legal documents.
"Packing in a hurry, Selena?" Amara asked softly, stepping into the room.
Selena backed away until her spine hit the mahogany bedframe. "This... this is Dante's house! You can't be here!"
"Actually, Selena," Julian said, stepping forward and handing her an eviction notice, "this house was owned by the Moretti Real Estate Holding Corporation. As of 9:00 AM this morning, Amara Moretti has assumed ninety-nine percent control of the corporation. You are currently trespassing on private property."
Selena looked at the document, her hands shaking violently. "I... I have rights! I’ve lived here for two weeks!"
"You've lived here for fourteen days as an illegal occupant," Amara corrected, walking over to the vanity table where her old jewelry boxes lay open. She picked up a simple gold ring her mother had given her—the only thing of personal value she had left behind.
"You can take the clothes Dante bought you," Amara said, looking at Selena’s packed suitcases. "You can take the shoes. But the jewelry stays. It belongs to the estate trust."
"You can't do this to me!" Selena cried, bursting into desperate, panicked tears. "Dante promised me! He said he loved me! He said he was going to marry me as soon as the divorce went through!"
Amara walked over to her, standing just a few inches away. Selena shrank back, terrified by the sheer calm authority radiating from the woman she had tried so hard to replace.
"Dante promised you a life built on stolen money and another woman's suffering," Amara said, her voice dropping into a low, steady tone that made Selena’s blood run cold. "He didn't love you, Selena. He just loved that you were dumb enough to believe his lies while I was smart enough to document them."
Amara turned toward her security guards.
"Escort Miss Ward off the premises," Amara ordered gently. "If she attempts to remove any items belonging to the trust, call the local police department."
The guards stepped forward, grabbing Selena by the arms and hauling her toward the door as she kicked and screamed, weeping hysterically about her ruined life.
When the room went quiet again, Julian looked at Amara. "What do you want to do with the estate?"
May you like
Amara looked around the grand room—the room where she had spent eight years trying to be the perfect, dutiful wife to a man who had never truly valued her.
"Sell it," Amara said without a second of hesitation. "Put every dollar from the sale into the foundation for single mothers in South Chicago. I don't want a single brick of this place left in my life."
