Chapter 4 - THE QUEEN'S GAMBITVanessa walked into the safehouse with the quiet, terrifying arrogance of a queen inspecting a conquered province.
The twelve mercenaries fanned out instantly, their automatic weapons trained on Matteo, Grace, and me. Matteo stood his ground, his pistol still pointed at Donovan, but we were completely outgunned and surrounded.
“Don't move, Matteo,” I commanded quietly, keeping my voice steady despite the agony tearing through my chest. “Put the gun down.”
Matteo gritted his teeth, slowly lowering his weapon to the floor.
Vanessa stepped forward, her expensive heels clicking sharply against the concrete. She didn't look at the dead silence of the room. She looked directly at me—her steel-grey eyes, the exact shade of my own, glittering with toxic triumph.
“You always were too sentimental, Dominic,” Vanessa said softly, reaching out a gloved finger to gently trace the line of my jaw. “If you had stayed in that hospital bed, you could have died a hero. The tragic boss who perished in an explosion. Instead, you dragged yourself out here to play detective.”
I pulled my face away from her touch, glaring into her eyes with pure, unadulterated venom. “You knew, didn't you? You knew my father was your father.”
Vanessa’s smile widened, cold and hollow. “Vittorio told me when I turned eighteen. He showed me the blood tests. He told me that I was a Moretti by birth, but a Bellini by raise. And he gave me a choice: I could either be a pawn in your father’s empire, or I could become the sole ruler of both.”
“By marrying your own half-brother?!” I snarled, disgust rising in my throat.
“The marriage was just a show for the Five Families, Dominic!” Vanessa laughed, a sharp, metallic sound that echoed off the stone walls. “A legal contract to merge the assets! We were never going to share a bed. Once the paper was signed, Vittorio was going to put a bullet in your head, and I was going to rule as the widow.”
She turned her eyes toward the inner bedroom door where Grace had hidden Lucas.
“And then Elena Rossi escaped,” Vanessa continued, her tone dropping into a dark, murderous hiss. “And she brought him back. My genetic creation. The boy who holds the full legal title to the Moretti trust.”
“He's a child, Vanessa!” Grace shouted, stepping out from behind the counter, her face pale with fury. “He’s six years old! You tried to burn him alive in that warehouse!”
Vanessa turned her cold gaze onto Grace, looking at the nurse as if she were an insect on her shoe.
“Ah, the brave little nurse,” Vanessa sneered. “You really thought you were saving him, didn't you? You hid his medical files, you dodged my security team, you brought him to Dominic... and all you did was lead us straight to his hiding spot.”
Vanessa motioned to two of her heavy mercenaries. “Go inside. Fetch my son.”
“Touch that door,” I rasped, taking a heavy, deliberate step forward, ignoring the three rifles instantly pointed at my chest, “and I will tear your throat out with my bare hands, sister or not.”
Vanessa paused, looking at me with a mix of amusement and genuine caution. She knew what I was capable of. Even broken, burned, and bleeding, Dominic Moretti was a predator that no one stepped near lightly.
“You're in no position to make demands, Dominic,” Vanessa said quietly. “Look around you. Your security chief is working for me. Your consigliere is disarmed. Your hospital floor is wiped clean. By eight o’clock this morning, the Five Families will sign the proxy agreement. You have lost.”
“Have I?” I asked, a dark, dangerous smirk slowly creeping across my bloody lips.
Vanessa frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you talking about?”
I slowly reached into my coat pocket. The mercenaries raised their weapons, their fingers tightening on the triggers.
I didn't pull out a gun.
I pulled out a small, heavy black box—a military-grade satellite transmitter—and held it up for everyone to see.
The small LED light on the top of the box was glowing a steady, solid green.
Vanessa’s face went slightly pale. “What is that?”
“It's a open-channel live feed, Vanessa,” I said, my voice echoing clearly through the quiet garage. “Broadcast directly to the private encrypted server of the Five Families Judiciary Board. Every word you just said—about your bloodline, about your father’s fake alliance, about the warehouse fire, and about Elena Rossi—has just been recorded and transmitted to every capo in the city.”
Vanessa stared at the green light, her breath catching in her throat. “You... you're bluffing.”
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“Check your phone, sister,” I purred softly.
At that exact second, every satellite phone in the garage—including Donovan’s and the mercenaries’—began buzzing simultaneously in a frantic, terrifying chorus.
