Chapter 4 - Mother of Lies
The iron gates of the Valenti estate in Alpine, New Jersey, were swung wide open.
The security guards at the perimeter were gone—either bought off or executed. The sprawling, 20,000-square-foot limestone mansion sat atop the hill like a dark, silent mausoleum under the relentless October storm.
My SUV slammed to a halt in the driveway. I stepped out, surrounded by twenty armed men. Elena and Bella remained in the bulletproof back seat under Marco’s personal protection.
“If anyone comes out of that house armed, drop them,” I commanded. “I go in alone.”
I pushed open the massive grand entrance doors. The marble foyer was illuminated only by the flickering amber light of the fireplace in the main parlor.
Sitting in a high-backed velvet armchair, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, was my mother.
Donna Valentina Valenti looked radiant for a woman in her late sixties. Her silver hair was styled perfectly, her diamond necklace caught the firelight, and her face remained entirely devoid of emotion as I walked in, soaked in river water, blood dripping from my knuckles onto her expensive Persian rug.
“You’re dripping on the silk, Dominic,” she said smoothly, not even looking up from her tea. “You always were so careless with your surroundings.”
“Where is the money, Mother?” I asked, my voice deadly low. “Where are the bearer bonds from the vault?”
Donna Valentina set her teacup down on the saucer with a soft, elegant clink.
“They are already in transit to a secure bank in Grand Cayman,” she replied calmly. “Along with the deeds to the Manhattan properties.”
I walked toward her, each step echoing through the empty mansion like a death knell. “You poisoned my wife.”
She finally lifted her cold, blue eyes to meet mine. There was no shame in them. No regret. Only pure, unadulterated arrogance.
“I saved this family,” she snapped, her voice turning sharp as glass. “Elena was a nobody! A florist’s daughter with no lineage, no power, and no backbone! A Valenti Don needs a queen from a royal line, not a frail little girl who wept every time you came home with blood on your collar!”
“She was my wife!” I roared, slamming my fist onto the mantelpiece above the fire. “And she was carrying my daughter!”
“A girl!” Donna Valentina sneered, standing up to face me. “A useless female child! What good is a girl to a dynasty that requires blood and iron to survive? I gave her synthetic hormones to keep her barren until I could force you to divorce her! It was supposed to be clean! You were supposed to marry Senator Moretti’s daughter!”
“Julian Moretti,” I realized, my stomach churning. “Julian wasn't just a rival. He was Senator Moretti’s disgraced nephew.”
“Julian was ambitious,” Donna Valentina admitted, stepping closer to me, showing no fear of the loaded gun in my hand. “He agreed to take Elena off the board. He promised to raise the child in Europe where she would never interfere with our family’s succession. But you... you let your pathetic, foolish heart get in the way tonight!”
“You traded your own granddaughter to the French Mob,” I whispered, looking at the woman who had raised me as if she were a venomous demon.
“I did what was necessary for the empire!” she yelled. “And I would do it again! You are weak, Dominic! Just like your father was! He let emotion cloud his judgment, and it cost him his life!”
A heavy silence settled over the room. The fire crackled, casting long, twisted shadows across the walls.
“My father didn't die of a heart attack, did he?” I asked, a horrifying suspicion dawning in my mind.
Donna Valentina smiled—a twisted, monstrous smirk. “Your father wanted to leave the business. He wanted to give everything away to charity and live a quiet life in Tuscany. I couldn't allow him to destroy fifty years of legacy. A little digitalis in his evening wine took care of the problem.”
I stared at her, completely numb.
The woman who gave me life was a serial killer who had murdered my father, poisoned my wife, and auctioned off my daughter for corporate control.
“You’re right about one thing, Mother,” I said quietly, lifting my pistol and aiming it directly at her chest. “The Valenti dynasty ends tonight.”
Donna Valentina’s smile faded. A flicker of real fear finally crossed her eyes. “You wouldn't kill your own mother. It is against the law of the syndicate. The Capos would tear you apart!”
“The Capos are already dead or paid off,” a voice spoke from the doorway.
Elena stepped into the parlor. She was wearing one of my dry coats, her posture straight, her face illuminated by the firelight. Behind her stood Marco, holding a heavy leather briefcase.
“Every Capo who signed off on your deal with Julian was executed thirty minutes ago,” Marco announced coldly. “Don Dominic is the absolute head of the family now.”
Donna Valentina backed away toward the fireplace, her hands trembling. “Elena... please. You’re a mother now. You understand sacrifice! Tell him!”
Elena walked up to my mother, looking her dead in the eyes.
“Five years ago, you handed me a check for a thousand dollars and told me I was broken,” Elena said, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “You told me a barren woman had no right to exist in your world.”
Elena reached into her pocket and pulled out a single, crushed purple crayon. She dropped it into Donna Valentina’s teacup.
“My daughter sends her regards,” Elena said softly.
Elena turned her back and walked out of the room.
I looked at my mother one last time. “You aren't going to die tonight, Mother. Death is too merciful for what you’ve done.”
I lowered the gun and nodded to Marco.
Two heavy, silent mercenaries stepped out from the shadows behind the parlor doors.
“Take her to the asylum in upstate New York,” I ordered. “The high-security ward. The one with no windows, no visitors, and no light. Ensure she is fed her own 'special vitamins' every single day for the rest of her life.”
Donna Valentina began screaming, thrashing violently as the guards dragged her backward out of the parlor. “DOMINIC! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME! I AM DONNA VALENTINA! YOU WILL ROT IN HELL FOR THIS!”
Her screams faded down the long hallway, swallowed by the roar of the storm outside.
May you like
I stood alone in the quiet parlor, looking at the fire.
The empire was mine. But as I turned to follow Elena out into the rain, I knew the hardest war had just begun: winning back the family I had spent five years destroying.
