Chapter 3 - Shadows Over Long Island
By midnight, the storm outside had reached its peak, pounding the north shore of Long Island with relentless wind and thunder.
In the secure basement vault beneath the mansion, Marco stepped out of the interrogation room, holding a encrypted satellite phone. He walked up to Aleandro, who was standing near the estate’s tactical command center.
"Vincent broke, Boss," Marco reported, his face grim. "It's worse than we thought. Don Carmine Falcone didn't just want you dead to take over the ports. He orchestrated the car bomb three years ago that killed your wife and daughter."
Aleandro’s body went completely rigid. The air in the hallway seemed to freeze instantly.
"What did you say?" Aleandro whispered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steel railing.
"Vincent admitted it under interrogation," Marco said, his voice heavy with sadness. "Three years ago, Vincent passed the security routes of your family vehicle to Carmine Falcone in exchange for a twenty percent cut in the Brooklyn dock operations. Falcone promised him that only you would be in the car that day. But when Isabella and Kiara got into the vehicle instead, Vincent kept his mouth shut."
Aleandro closed his eyes, a wave of unbearable, agonizing grief surging through his chest, followed immediately by an ocean of pure, unstoppable rage.
For three years, he had believed his family died in a random, tragic territorial conflict. For three years, he had blamed himself for not being in that car. But the true monsters had been standing beside him all along—his own cousin, and the Don of the Falcone family.
"Where is Carmine Falcone right now?" Aleandro asked, opening his eyes. They were devoid of all humanity, burning with a cold, terrifying lethal intent.
"He is staying at his fortified estate in Hamptons," Marco replied. "He has thirty armed men guarding the perimeter. He’s waiting for the news of your death to become public tomorrow morning so he can launch a full-scale assault on our territory."
"He won't have to wait for tomorrow morning," Aleandro declared coldly. "Assemble the elite squad. We leave in twenty minutes."
"Boss," Marco hesitated, looking toward the main elevator. "What about Sophia and her daughter? The mansion won't be fully secured while we are gone."
Aleandro paused, thinking of the innocent child who had saved his life earlier that day. He could not leave her vulnerable to any lingering Falcone loyalists.
Aleandro walked up to the second floor, pushing open the doors to the guest suite. Sophia was sitting on the edge of a plush bed, watching Emma sleep peacefully under a thick velvet blanket.
"Sophia," Aleandro said softly from the doorway.
Sophia stood up instantly. "Mr. Moretti... is everything okay?"
"No," Aleandro said plainly. "I have to leave to finish a war that started three years ago. But before I leave, I am placing twenty of my best men on this estate to protect you and Emma. No one enters these gates without my personal clearance."
He walked over to a small safe in the corner of the room, unlocked it, and pulled out a black leather folder containing legal deeds and bank documents.
"If I do not return by sunrise," Aleandro said, placing the folder into Sophia’s hands, "this folder transfers ownership of my private estate in Vermont to you, along with a trust fund of ten million dollars for Emma’s education and medical care."
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Sophia’s eyes opened wide with absolute shock. "Mr. Moretti... no! I can't accept this! We are just... I'm just a housekeeper!"
"You are the mother of the child who gave me back my breath," Aleandro said, his voice trembling with rare, profound emotion. "You gave me a second chance at life, Sophia. The least I can do is ensure that yours is protected."
