Chapter 4 - The Confrontation on Park Avenue
The penthouse on the 45th floor of the Park Avenue tower was silent as the elevator doors slid open at 6:15 a.m.
Mateo Rossi sat in a velvet armchair overlooking the snow-covered skyline of Manhattan, sipping espresso, waiting for his phone to ring with the news of Daniel Moretti’s death.
Instead, the double glass doors of his private foyer were kicked off their hinges with a thunderous CRACK!
Four Moretti Enforcers flooded the penthouse, disarming Mateo’s private guards in seconds! Before Mateo could reach for the Beretta tucked beneath his silk robe, a heavy leather boot slammed into his chest, sending him crashing onto the glass coffee table!
Mateo gasped for air, looking up through the shattered glass to see Gabriel Moretti standing over him, holding a nickel-plated revolver pointed directly between his eyes.
"G-Gabriel!" Mateo stammered, his face turning pale as ash. "What... what is the meaning of this?! Why are you here?!"
"You look surprised to see me, Mateo," Gabriel said smoothly, pulling a chair over and sitting down, leaning his forearms on his knees, the revolver resting casually in his hand. "Did you think I was still weeping at Lenox Hill?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Mateo squeaked, clutching his bruised chest. "I was sleeping! I've been here all night!"
The elevator doors chimed again.
Vincent walked into the penthouse, escorting Elena, who was wearing a heavy black winter coat over a tactical kevlar vest.
Mateo’s eyes locked onto Elena’s bandaged face, and for a split second, a look of pure, horrific panic flashed across his eyes.
"You remember her, don't you, Mateo?" Gabriel asked softly. "Or rather... you remember the man you sent into my son's room."
"I've never seen this woman in my life!" Mateo shouted frantically. "Gabriel, she’s a nobody! Who is she?!"
Elena took two steps forward, her voice steady and echoing off the marble walls of the penthouse. "He was wearing a gold watch on his left wrist and a signet ring with a red ruby on his right pinky. He held a pillow over the little boy's face while his partner held the door. When I hit him with the mop handle, he cursed at me in Italian—he said, 'Maledetta stronz_!'—the exact same accent you have right now."
Mateo’s breath caught in his throat. He looked at Elena with pure hatred. "You stupid bitch—"
BANG!
Gabriel didn't even glance down as he pulled the trigger. The bullet blew through the armrest of Mateo’s velvet chair, missing his thigh by less than an inch! Mateo shrieked, pressing his back against the couch, trembling uncontrollably.
"Choose your next words very carefully, Mateo," Gabriel whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal intent. "Because the only reason you are still breathing is because I want to hear you admit it in front of my capos."
Vincent held up his phone, which was currently broadcasting a live, encrypted video conference to the seven senior heads of the Moretti family families across New York. On their screens, they had watched the entire confrontation.
"The council has seen enough, Gabriel," the eldest capo, Don Carmine, spoke through the phone speaker, his voice ancient and cold. "Mateo Rossi has broken the sacred law. He targeted a child. He is stripped of his rank, his assets, and his bloodline. Execute the judgment."
Mateo began to weep, throwing himself on his hands and knees. "Gabriel! Please! We were brothers! I was greedy! The Russians promised me millions! Please!"
Gabriel stood up, turning his back on his former underboss. He looked at Elena, gently placing his large hand on her shoulder, guiding her back toward the private elevator.
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"Vincent," Gabriel commanded coldly as the elevator doors began to close. "Clean the room."
As the heavy doors sealed shut, the sharp, final sound of a single gunshot echoed through the penthouse foyer.
