Chapter 4 - The Traitor Among UsAs the federal marshals moved in to handcuff a shouting Victor Rossi and a sobbing Vivian, my eyes moved to the corner of the room.
Marco Rinaldi—my most trusted security chief, the man who had stood beside me for eleven years—had slowly backed away toward the curtained terrace doors.
"Marco," I said, without turning my head completely toward him.
Marco froze. His hand hovered inches from his waist.
"Sophia's letter had a third page, Marco," I whispered, the pain in my heart far deeper than any wound a knife could inflict. "Sophia wrote that the night Daniel died in the dockland ambush... only one person had the security access codes to turn off the perimeter cameras on Pier 14."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with eleven years of shared history and ultimate betrayal.
Marco lowered his head, a bitter, tragic laugh escaping his lips. "He offered me fifty percent of the logistics fleet, Lorenzo. You were always too clean, too honorable... you wouldn't take the dark money from the South American cartels. Victor Rossi was going to make us kings."
"I was already a king, Marco," I said softly. "I just didn't realize my most loyal knight was a beggar."
Before Marco could draw his weapon, two state troopers tackled him to the marble floor, securing his arms behind his back in heavy steel cuffs.
As the traitors were dragged out of the grand mansion in disgrace, the remaining syndicate bosses sat in absolute silence. They looked at me, then at the four-year-old girl sitting calmly at the head of the mahogany table.
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One by one, the oldest bosses stood up from their chairs. They didn't reach for their weapons. They bowed their heads in deep, unquestioned respect.
"The Duca bloodline remains unbroken," the oldest boss murmured. "The empire belongs to the child."
