Chapter 8
The attempted hit by the Outfit proved that my enemies thought I was vulnerable. They thought the wheelchair made me weak. They thought a crippled mafia boss hiding in a fortress was ripe for the taking.
They were about to learn how catastrophically wrong they were.
Over the next week, I mobilized every hidden asset, every offshore account, and every loyal soldier remaining in the Chicago syndicate. I didn't hide in the study anymore. With Emma by my side—acting as both my personal assistant and the only person in the house who wasn't afraid to tell me when I was being an idiot—we systematically dismantled the leadership of the rival faction that had ordered the hit.
By Friday night, the war was over before the police even realized a turf war had broken out. The rival Don signed an unconditional surrender over a secure encrypted video feed, handing over his entire shipping network in the Port of Chicago to the Moretti family.
I clicked off the monitor, leaning back in my chair, looking across the desk at Emma, who was organizing a stack of logistics contracts.
“You know, you’re entirely unsuited for night cleaning,” I remarked dryly.
She paused, looking up from the papers with a raised eyebrow. “Is that your way of firing me, Mr. Moretti?”
“No,” I said, wheeling my chair around the desk until I stopped right in front of her. I reached out, gently taking her hand—the one with the chemical-burned knuckles from scrubbing floors—and intertwined my fingers with hers. “That’s my way of offering you a promotion. Head of corporate operations. Permanent position. And a salary that makes sure you never have to step foot in a diner or clean a baseboard again.”
Emma stared at me, her heart shining in her eyes. “And what about your heart, Danny? Still feel like a tomb?”
May you like
I looked up at her, the phantom pain in my legs completely forgotten, replaced by the warm, undeniable reality of a future I thought I had lost forever.
“Not anymore,” I whispered, pulling her closer. “Not since you walked in and broke down every door I locked.”
