Chapter 5 - THE MOUSETRAP
By 2:00 AM, the atmosphere inside the penthouse had shifted from quiet sorrow to tactical precision.
Matteo sat in his study, flanked by Marco and his two most trusted lieutenants, Paulie and Franco. Elena sat in the leather armchair behind Matteo’s desk, wrapped in one of his heavy cashmere sweaters, drinking warm tea while observing the blueprints laid out across the table.
“Moretti’s financial takeover of our New Jersey shipping terminals is being executed through a dirty bank in Brooklyn,” Marco reported, tapping a finger on the map. “The bank president, Arthur Pendelton, is holding the master transfer authorization keys. The closing transaction is scheduled for 9:00 AM tomorrow.”
“Who is Moretti’s mole inside our house?” Matteo asked, his eyes scanning the personnel roster.
“We ran a silent audit on the encrypted comms logs from three years ago, just like Mrs. Rinaldi suggested,” Marco admitted, looking at Elena with newfound, profound respect. “The signal trace matches a secondary relay owned by Don Vicenzo.”
Matteo narrowed his eyes. Vicenzo. His father’s oldest advisor. The uncle who had sat at his wedding table and toasted to his happiness.
“Vicenzo has been feeding Moretti our operational routes for five years,” Matteo murmured, pieces falling into place with terrifying ease. “Vicenzo was the one who suggested I send the divorce papers to Elena tonight. He wanted her isolated from my protection before Moretti took over the terminals.”
Elena spoke up, her voice steady and clear despite her exhaustion. “Vicenzo doesn't know you burnt the divorce papers. He thinks I’m leaving the penthouse alone tomorrow morning.”
Matteo turned his chair toward her. “What are you thinking, Elena?”
“Vicenzo will have a snatch squad waiting for me the moment I leave this building,” Elena analyzed, her intelligence training showing through her calm demeanor. “Moretti wants me alive as a bargaining chip to force you to sign over the remaining territory without a fight.”
“I am not using you as bait, Elena,” Matteo said instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I almost lost you once. I am not letting you anywhere near Moretti’s men.”
Elena stood up, walking around the desk, and placed her small hands firmly on his shoulders.
“Matteo, look at me,” she said softly, but with absolute authority. “For three years, I hid in the dark waiting for Moretti to strike. I am done hiding. We use their assumption against them. They think I’m a helpless, broken ex-wife leaving a dead marriage. They won't expect a trap.”
Matteo reached up, covering her hands with his own, wrestling with the instinct to lock her in a safe room versus the cold reality of her tactical logic.
“We feed Vicenzo bad intelligence,” Marco added, catching on to Elena’s strategy. “We let Vicenzo think Mrs. Rinaldi is being transported to Teterboro Airport at 6:00 AM in a soft target sedan. When Moretti’s snatch squad hits the convoy on the highway, we spring the trap and take them down silently.”
“And while Moretti’s primary hit team is focused on the highway,” Matteo concluded, his eyes gleaming with dark intent, “I take a strike team directly to the Sovereign Hotel and walk into Moretti’s penthouse suite.”
Elena looked into Matteo’s eyes, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. “Promise me you won't give him a chance to talk his way out of this.”
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Matteo stood up, pulling her close, his lips brushing against her ear.
“I promised you three years ago at the altar that I would eliminate every threat to our family,” Matteo whispered smoothly. “Tomorrow morning, I fulfill that vow.”
