Chapter 4 - The Shadow over Lakeshore
By eight o'clock that evening, news of the sudden upheaval inside the Ferrante mansion had spread through the underground channels of Chicago like wildfire.
In a high-end private dining room overlooking the river, Carmine Moretti—the ruthless, sixty-year-old leader of the Moretti crime syndicate—sat across from his daughter, Sofia. Sofia was a polished, stunning woman with sharp features and diamond earrings that caught the low light of the chandelier.
Enzo Mancini, who had quietly left the Ferrante estate hours earlier, sat at the end of the table, sipping a tumbler of bourbon.
"Explain this to me again, Enzo," Carmine said, his voice raspy from decades of smoking heavy cigars. "Veto frozen Julian’s accounts? He suspended the wedding preparations?"
"It’s true, Don Carmine," Enzo reported, leaning forward. "I was in the library when Veto walked in. He was like a demon. He threw Julian against the desk and threatened to destroy him if he stepped off the property."
Sofia set her wine glass down with a loud clink, her dark eyes flashing with anger. "Why? Julian promised me we would finalize the venue contract this week! What excuse could Veto possibly have?"
"It’s a woman," Enzo said softly.
Sofia frowned. "A woman? What woman? Julian wouldn't dare cheat on me with anyone important."
"She’s not important," Enzo spat, shaking his head. "She’s a pregnant maid. One of the third-floor cleaners. Word from the house staff is that Veto found her crying in the garden this afternoon. He personally walked her to the private medical wing, fired the housekeeper on the spot, and moved the maid into the master guest suite in the east wing."
Carmine Moretti went dead still. His thick, gray eyebrows pulled together in a dark scowl.
"A maid?" Carmine repeated, his tone dropping into a dangerous key. "Veto Ferrante is delaying an alliance between the two largest syndicates in the Midwest... over a maid carrying his brother's bastard?"
"It gets worse," Enzo added, leaning closer. "Veto assigned his personal guards to her door. He gave her his mother’s old quarters in the east wing. He’s treating her like royalty."
Sofia stood up from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. "This is an insult! I am a Moretti! I am not going to be set aside for some pregnant servant girl!"
"Sit down, Sofia," Carmine ordered sharply.
Sofia bit her lip, but sat back down, her chest heaving with indignation.
Carmine turned his dark, calculating gaze toward Enzo. "Veto is a traditional man. He holds old-world concepts of honor and family responsibility. His father was the same way—stubborn to a fault when it came to blood."
Carmine took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a thick cloud of blue smoke into the air.
"If that girl stays in that house," Carmine mused, "she destroys the alliance. Without the marriage between Sofia and Julian, the territory distribution in North Chicago remains unsettled."
"What do you want to do, Don Carmine?" Enzo asked quietly.
Carmine smiled—a cruel, thin line across his aged face.
"Veto thinks his house is a fortress," Carmine said softly. "He thinks because he commands four hundred men in this city, he is untouchable. But a maid is weak, Enzo. A maid can be frightened. And if the girl disappears... Julian has no reason to play the honorable father, and Veto has no leverage left to hold over us."
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"I have two men inside the estate's service entrance," Enzo offered with a dark grin.
"Good," Carmine said, tapping his cigar ash onto his plate. "Make sure she doesn't survive the night. Make it look like a tragic accident—an stressed, pregnant girl falling down the service stairwell. Simple. Clean."
