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"WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO TOUCH WHAT BELONGS TO THIS DESK?" THE BALLROOM FROZE AS GAETANO’S BLADE GLEAMED AGAINST HIS OWN CAPO’S THROAT. / Chapter 7 / 10

Chapter 7 - "This Ends Now!"

Renato didn't let go. In a moment of pure, adrenaline-driven stupidity, he pulled me closer to his chest, using my body as a shield between him and the Don. "She’s just an employee, Gaetano! You don't own her! Osvaldo and I have as much right to the assets of this family as you do—"

Flash.

The movement was so fast the human eye couldn't track it. Gaetano closed the distance between them in a single, explosive stride. His large hand snapped out, catching Renato by the throat with bone-crushing force, lifting the younger capo entirely off his feet.

With his other hand, Gaetano drew a short, gleaming steel blade from the interior lining of his vest—a traditional Sicilian folding knife—and pressed the cold edge straight against Renato’s jugular.

The ballroom erupted into screams. Women lunged away, dropping their glasses; men scrambled toward the doors. The string quartet stopped playing with a horrific screech of bows.

"Gaetano! Stop!" Osvaldo Veraldo yelled, running out from the private lounge, his face white with terror. "Not here! The press is outside!"

Gaetano didn't look at Osvaldo. His eyes were fixed entirely on Renato’s pale, choking face. The blade pressed just deep enough to draw a single, perfect bead of crimson that rolled down Renato’s white collar.

"Who gave you permission to touch what belongs to this desk, Renato?" Gaetano growled, his voice vibrating through the silent hall like thunder. "You thought I didn't know about the docks? You thought I didn't know you and Osvaldo were using the 7th floor to hide your filth?"

He leaned in closer, his jaw set so tight the muscle jumped beside his cheek. "This ends now. You are stripped of your crew. You are stripped of your name. If I ever see you near Francesca Pellegrini again, I won't use a knife. I will use the river."

He threw Renato backward. The young capo crashed into the champagne fountain, sending hundreds of crystal glasses shattering across the marble floor in a glittering explosion of glass and alcohol.

Gaetano turned his back on the chaos, completely ignoring the security guards and the politicians who were watching him in absolute horror. He looked at me, his breathing heavy, his gray eyes wild with a raw, terrifying obsession.

He extended his hand to me.

"Come with me, Francesca," he commanded softly.

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Dr. Mercer looked down at the ultrasound monitor, her fingers moving with practiced ease over the trackball. The quiet hum of the machine filled the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic, heavy breathing of Dorian Cross standing near the door. He hadn't sat down once. His tall frame cast a long, imposing shadow across the sterile room, hand resting near the button of his suit jacket—a posture born of years of constant vigilance.

Dr. Mercer looked down at the ultrasound monitor, her fingers moving wit...

The ambulance siren wailed in the distance, a rising shriek that cut through the rainy night like a knife. I didn't wait for them. I held Arianne against my chest, feeling the terrifyingly erratic rhythm of her pulse, and bolted down the grand mahogany staircase.

The ambulance siren wailed in the distance, a rising shriek that cut thr...

The heavy cabin door hissed shut behind me, sealing in the scent of expensive cologne, manufactured corporate harmony, and betrayal. As I stepped back onto the sun-baked tarmac of the private aviation terminal, the stifling afternoon heat hit me like a physical blow. Behind the thick, tinted glass of the jet's windows, I could see Carter’s silhouette—his jaw set in that familiar, arrogant angle of a man who believed he had just successfully disciplined a disobedient pet.

The heavy cabin door hissed shut behind me, sealing in the scent of expe...

I looked at the glass on the floor, then at the blood on his blade, then into the eyes of the man who had just destroyed his own syndicate to protect me. I reached out, my small hand sliding into his massive, warm grip.

"Let’s go home, Gaetano," I said.

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