Chapter 2 - THE SUMMONS OF THE DONS
The rain beat relentlessly against the reinforced glass windows of the grand library on the third floor of the Moretti estate.
Outside, the perimeter gates were completely locked down. Searchlights cut through the dark night, illuminating the forty armored vehicles parked across the sprawling driveway. The air across the entire estate was thick with the scent of ozone, rain, and pending bloodshed.
Inside the library, five heavy leather armchairs were arranged in a semi-circle around a roaring marble fireplace.
Seated in those chairs were the four most powerful men on the East Coast: Don Victor Vance, a cold, gray-haired man with eyes like chipped ice; Don Lorenzo Falcone from Brooklyn; Don Mario Maranzano from Philadelphia; and Don Arturo Lucchesi from New Jersey.
Standing behind Don Victor Vance were twelve heavily armed mercenaries, their handguns barely concealed beneath their long leather coats.
Damiano sat in a high-backed leather chair opposite the four Dons. He wore a crisp dark shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick, tattooed forearms. Resting on the mahogany coffee table in front of him were three items: a glass of whiskey, a small remote-control detonator wrapped in plastic, and Matilda, the one-eyed rag doll.
"You have kept us waiting for an hour, Damiano," Don Victor Vance said, his voice a low, raspy growl. "My daughter was brought into this house two hours ago, and my guards tell me she has not been seen since. Where is Valentina? We came here to sign a peace treaty, not to play your games."
Damiano took a slow sip of his whiskey. He didn't look bothered by the twelve armed men eyeing his skull.
"Your daughter is currently in my wine cellar, Victor," Damiano said calmly, setting his glass down with a soft click. "She is being treated with the utmost restraint considering she attempted to vaporize this entire room forty-five minutes ago."
Don Victor’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "What insolence is this? Valentina would never—"
"The C4 charge under my desk was manufactured by a defense contractor in Zurich," Damiano interrupted smoothly, sliding a paper folder across the table toward the other three Dons. "A contractor that only the Vance family has retained for the last five years. The detonator was programmed to trigger when all five of us sat down at the table."
Don Lorenzo Falcone leaned forward, opening the folder. His weathered face turned dark as he scanned the schematics and serial numbers. "Victor... these are your supply codes. What the hell is the meaning of this?"
"It’s a frame-up!" Victor thundered, standing up from his chair. "Damiano fabricated this evidence to break the marriage contract! He never wanted to unite our territories!"
"I broke the marriage contract because your daughter committed the ultimate offense," Damiano whispered, standing up slowly from his seat. His towering height immediately dominated the entire room. "She planted the device, and when a six-year-old child discovered her... she bruised the girl’s arm and threatened to murder her mother."
Don Victor let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "A child? You are risking a multi-billion-dollar East Coast syndicate war over the word of a servant's child? Are you out of your mind, Moretti? Who is this girl? A nobody! A domestic worker who wipes your floors!"
The library doors clicked open.
Sophia walked into the room.
She was no longer wearing her maid’s uniform. Damiano had ordered his staff to bring her a stunning burgundy velvet gown from his private collection. The dress hugged every lush, glorious curve of her voluptuous body, accentuating her narrow waist and full hips. Her rich, dark hair was styled in soft, cascading waves over her shoulders, and around her neck hung a simple, brilliant diamond pendant.
Behind her, holding Marco’s hand tightly, walked little Emma, dressed in a soft cream-colored sweater and dark trousers.
Every Don in the room turned to look at her.
Sophia walked into the middle of the lethal room with her head held high. Though her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, she did not flinch under the cold, murderous stares of the syndicate bosses. She walked straight to Damiano’s side.
Damiano reached out, taking her hand in his, wrapping his large, warm fingers tightly around hers in front of all four Dons.
"Allow me to introduce you gentlemen," Damiano said, his baritone voice echoing through the heavy library like a royal decree. "This is Sophia Bellini. And her daughter, Emma."
Don Victor sneered, stepping forward aggressively. "Is this a joke to you, Damiano? You bring your house maid in here dressed in silk and expect us to bow to her?"
"I expect you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say, Victor," Damiano said softly, his silver eyes locking onto Victor’s with a terrifying intensity. "As of five minutes ago, Sophia Bellini is no longer my employee. She is my protected consort. And by the end of this month, she will be my wife."
A collective gasp echoed across the library.
Don Lorenzo Falcone gasped, dropping his cigar onto the carpet. Don Mario Maranzano leaned back, staring at Damiano as if he had grown a second head.
"You’re marrying a maid?!" Victor roared, his face turning beet red with absolute humiliation. "You reject my daughter—the heiress to the Vance empire—for a woman with no lineage, no title, and no bloodline?!"
"Lineage did not stop your daughter from acting like a cowardly assassin, Victor," Damiano sneered coldly. "Sophia’s daughter saved your life tonight. If Emma had not spoken up, your body would currently be scattered across my front lawn in pieces."
Damiano stepped forward, pulling Sophia gently against his side.
"The peace treaty is dead," Damiano announced, looking at all four Dons. "The alliance with the Vance family is null and void. Any man who sides with Victor Vance is an enemy of the Moretti syndicate. You have ten minutes to clear your men from my estate grounds."
Victor Vance pointed a trembling, enraged finger at Sophia and Emma. "You will regret this, Moretti! I will tear your territory apart brick by brick! And I will make sure this cheap woman and her bastard watch you bleed before I cut their throats!"
CLACK!
Before Victor could finish his sentence, Damiano drew his Beretta and pressed the cold steel barrel directly against Victor’s forehead.
The twelve Vance bodyguards instantly raised their weapons, but twenty Moretti guards stepped out from behind the library bookshelves, their rifles aimed directly at the heads of the mercenaries.
"Say one more word about my family, Victor," Damiano whispered into the old man’s ear, his voice dripping with pure, unadulterated death. "And I will execute you right here in front of your peers."
Victor stood frozen, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt the absolute, unyielding iron of Damiano’s resolve. He swallowed hard, slowly stepping backward, lowering his finger.
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"This isn't over, Moretti," Victor rasped, his voice trembling with humiliated rage. "War is coming."
"I know," Damiano said, lowering his gun with a sinister, confident smile. "And I am going to enjoy every second of tearing your empire to ashes."
