Chapter 4 - The Net Draws Tight
The news that Alessandro Moretti had officially acknowledged a child spread through the city's underworld like wildfire.
Speculation ran rampant. Some claimed the mafia boss had suffered a mental breakdown following the death of his housekeeper; others rumored that a secret heir had emerged to claim the Moretti fortune. But no one dared ask Alessandro directly.
In the basement vaults beneath the estate, Marco was busy executing his boss's orders.
A dozen computer monitors glowed in the dark room, displaying financial ledgers, wire transfers, and security camera footage gathered from across the city. Standing beside Marco was Frankie, a young tech specialist who had spent forty-eight hours straight breaking through the encrypted firewalls of Julian Vance’s private bank accounts.
"We got it, Marco," Frankie said, pulling up a series of transaction records. "Two weeks ago, Julian Vance transferred five hundred thousand dollars to a offshore account in the Cayman Islands. The recipient? A former mercenary named Victor Vance—Julian's nephew."
Marco leaned over the console, his brow furrowed. "Victor Vance... the guy who got dishonorably discharged from the military for brutal field tactics?"
"The very same," Frankie replied. "And guess where Victor’s phone pinged on Tuesday morning at 6:50 AM?"
Frankie clicked a key, and a red dot flashed over the high-resolution architectural map of the Moretti estate—specifically, the third-floor balcony overlooking the north staircase.
Marco slammed his fist onto the metal desk. "The bastards. They brought in an outside hitman to push her."
"It gets worse," Frankie added, scrolling down. "Julian Vance has been quietly liquidating his domestic assets for the last seventy-two hours. He’s preparing to move three hundred million dollars out of the country to Switzerland. He knows the net is closing."
Marco reached for the house phone and dialed Alessandro’s private line.
Upstairs in the library, Alessandro sat at his grand desk with Lucas sitting on his lap. The three-year-old was carefully using a yellow crayon to color inside the lines of a picture book, totally unaware of the lethal game being played around him.
"Speak, Marco," Alessandro answered.
"We have the physical proof, boss," Marco reported. "Julian Vance hired his nephew Victor to do the job. Victor was inside the house on Tuesday morning. And Vance is planning to flee the country after your dinner tomorrow night."
Alessandro reached out, gently stroking his son's chestnut curls. "Where is Victor Vance right now?"
"He’s hiding out at an abandoned dockyard facility on Pier 14," Marco said. "Waiting for his final payment from Julian."
Alessandro’s eyes hardened into pure flint. "Take six men. I want Victor alive, Marco. Do not kill him. Bring him to the wine cellar beneath the estate before six o'clock tomorrow evening."
"Understood, boss. What about Julian and Isabella?"
"Let them come to dinner," Alessandro said, his tone terrifyingly soft. "They think they are coming to negotiate a marriage alliance. Instead, they will attend a funeral."
Alessandro hung up the phone. He looked down at Lucas, who held up his coloring book proudly.
"Look, Daddy!" Lucas chirped. "I stayed in the lines!"
Alessandro froze. The word hung in the quiet library like a golden bell ringing through a dark storm. Daddy. It was the first time the child had called him that.
May you like
A profound wave of warmth washed over the ruthless mafia boss. He wrapped his arms around the little boy, pressing a deep kiss into his soft curls.
"You did perfect, son," Alessandro whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You did absolutely perfect."
