Chapter 8 - The House of Moretti
"Antonio," Roman said, his voice dropping into a register colder than the storm outside. "I should have known you were behind the security wipe at the house."
Antonio smiled—a thin, razor-sharp expression that held zero warmth.
"Your father was a fool, Roman," Antonio said, stepping slowly over the rubble. "He thought he could use the Moretti family to build his empire, and then lock my sister away in a quiet penthouse while he played king of the coast. When he realized Isabella had found out about our financial arrangements, he panicked. He didn't lock her away to protect himself—he locked her away to protect us."
Roman’s fingers tightened against the trigger of his rifle. "My mother knew?"
"Your mother planned it!" Antonio laughed softly. "Elena was the architect of the Bellandi-Moretti alliance! She was the one who poisoned your grandfather, Roman. She was the one who insisted that Isabella be kept in this dark pit so that you and Julian would inherit a clean, undisputed empire!"
"And Julian?" Roman demanded, his voice trembling with dark rage. "Did you kill my brother too?"
Antonio’s smile faded slightly. "Julian was weak. He went digging through old archives in Rome. He found the bank records. He came back talking about 'justice' and 'clearing the family name.' He was going to hand the syndicate over to the federal authorities, Roman. I couldn't allow a twenty-four-year-old boy to destroy forty years of work."
"He was your nephew," Roman growled.
"He was a liability!" Antonio snapped, raising his pistol. "Just like that little bastard girl he hid away! And just like you!"
Antonio raised his arm to fire, but Roman didn't wait.
Roman dropped to his knee, firing a six-round burst straight through the chest of the two guards standing to Antonio's left.
Antonio lunged behind a granite pillar as the hall descended into chaos once more.
Roman sprinted forward, slamming into the remaining two guards with the force of a battering ram. He drove his combat knife through the throat of one, grabbed the second by his tactical vest, and threw him over the stone balustrade into the three-story drop below.
Antonio burst out from behind the pillar, firing his revolver twice.
One bullet caught Roman in the left shoulder, spinning him around and tearing through his heavy leather coat.
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Roman didn't scream. He didn't even slow down.
Driven by a lifetime of anger, betrayal, and dark clarity, Roman lunged across the floor, catching Antonio by the throat and slamming him violently against the damp stone wall.
