Chapter 6 - The Clean Sweep
The room smelled of cordite, expensive cigars, and fresh blood.
In less than three minutes, the Donati council had ceased to exist. The nine men who had sought to split the Bellacasa empire lay still around the mahogany table. Marco Rossi lay in the corner, his betrayal finally paid in full.
Damian stood by the window, watching the street below through a pair of binoculars. "The city police are two minutes away. Someone called in the gunshots from the floor below."
"Let them come," Vittorio said calmly, adjusting his silk tie. "The police chief owes me his career. He will find a story about an internal Donati feud and close the file by sunset."
He stood up, using his cane, and looked at Nora. She was standing by the door, ejection casings crunching softly beneath her polished shoes as she reloaded her magazine with steady, rhythmic precision.
"You move like your father, Nora," Vittorio said, his voice carrying a rare note of genuine respect. "Aldo Valenti was the deadliest man in the western provinces. He fought three armies before he fell."
"My father died because he trusted men like you," Nora said quietly, snapping the fresh magazine into her Beretta. "He thought honor existed outside the mountains."
"Honor is a luxury for men who don't rule," Vittorio replied, stepping toward her. "When I burned Enna, I thought I was clearing the path for peace. I thought if I wiped out the old families, there would be no more feuds, no more children hiding under floorboards. I was wrong. Violence does not end because you kill the leaders; it merely changes shape."
He stopped two feet from her, staring deeply into her amber eyes.
"You have lived fifteen years as a ghost, Nora. You have no family, no home, no name. But today, you saved the House of Bellacasa."
"I saved my vengeance," she corrected sharply.
"Vengeance is a cold home, girl," Damian said, stepping away from the window and standing beside his father. "You cleared the council. You cleared Marco. What happens tomorrow when the rest of the families realize the Bellacasas are still standing because a maid saved them?"
"They won't know a maid saved you," Nora said, her face an unreadable mask. "They will know that the House of Valenti has returned to claim its share."
Vittorio’s black eyes brightened. A cold, calculating smile touched his lips. "You want the territory?"
"I want the interior," Nora said, her voice rising with an undeniable authority. "I want the old trade routes through Canada, the mountain properties in Vermont, and total independence from the Chicago council. You will sign the ancestral deeds over to my name, Vittorio. Publicly. Before the remaining bosses of the east coast."
Damian frowned. "That’s half our northern operational network."
"It’s the price of your life, Damian," Nora said, turning her sharp gaze onto the young boss. "And it’s the only way your father lives long enough to die of old age."
Vittorio began to laugh—a deep, resonant sound that echoed off the blood-splattered walls of the penthouse.
"Look at her, Damian!" the old man chuckled, shaking his head. "She speaks like a king demanding tribute! This is the old blood! This is what we lost when we built this modern kingdom of papers and banks!"
Vittorio struck his ebony cane against the floor.
"Done," the old patriarch declared. "The northern territory is yours, daughter of Valenti. But under one condition."
May you like
Nora’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What condition?"
"You sit at the head of the council meeting tomorrow night," Vittorio said, his voice turning deadly serious. "You stand beside my son as his equal. Because I am an old man, Nora, and when I am gone, Damian will need someone who knows how to spot a blade in the dark."
