Chapter 3 - The Ghost of 2011
The basement beneath the Moretti mansion was vast, cold, and smelled of damp earth and aging paper. Long rows of metal shelving stretched into the darkness, holding thousands of dusty boxes containing the history of New York’s underworld.
Adrian walked down the central aisle, a heavy flash lantern in one hand and his sidearm in the other. Salvatore walked in front of him, guarded by two of Dominic’s most ruthless enforcers.
"It’s in the back corner," Salvatore muttered, his voice hollow. "Behind the furnace."
They reached a rusted iron cage that had been locked with a heavy padlock. Adrian used his master key to snap the lock open. Inside sat three wooden crates covered in heavy canvas.
Adrian pulled back the canvas, revealing a series of old ledger books and bound trial documents from 2011—the year Adrian’s mother, Catherine, had tragically died in an apparent robbery gone wrong outside a Manhattan restaurant.
Adrian felt a sudden, suffocating tightness in his chest. "Why are my mother’s estate papers down here?"
"Because your father ordered them burned," Salvatore whispered, staring at the concrete floor. "Fifteen years ago, after your mother died... Don Moretti told everyone it was a street mugging. He wiped out the gang responsible within forty-eight hours. You were twenty-one, Adrian. You took over the street crews, seeking blood, proving yourself."
Adrian’s hand trembled slightly as he picked up a thick green leather notebook—the same notebook Elena had found. He flipped open the cover.
Inside was Catherine Moretti’s delicate, flowing handwriting. It was a diary. But as Adrian scanned the pages, he realized it wasn't a diary of recipes or personal thoughts.
It was a detailed record of financial transactions, complete with dates, bank routing numbers, and secret Swiss account codes. Catherine had been quietly documenting the corruption within the Moretti family, planning to use it to escape her abusive husband and take young Adrian away from the mob life forever.
And on the final page, dated three days before her murder, was an entry that shattered Adrian’s world into pieces:
'Salvatore came to the house today while Don Moretti was in Chicago. He found the ledger. He told me if I don't give him half the offshore accounts, he will tell my husband that I am going to the FBI. God help me. My husband will kill me if he finds out. Salvatore isn't loyal to the Don. He is building his own empire on my blood.'
Adrian slowly lowered the book. The lantern light reflected off his pale, rigid face.
He looked at Salvatore.
"It wasn't a mugging," Adrian said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sounded like grinding glass. "My father didn't kill her. You did. You set up the hit, blamed it on a street gang, and then helped my father 'avenge' her so you could position yourself as his most trusted lieutenant."
Salvatore took a ragged breath. The arrogant consigliere was gone; only a cornered rat remained. "Your father was a monster, Adrian! He was going to destroy everything! Catherine was going to hand the entire empire to the feds! I saved the family!"
"You killed my mother for money!" Adrian roared, slamming Salvatore against the concrete pillar. He pressed the barrel of his pistol directly between Salvatore’s eyes. "You sat at my dinner table for fifteen years! You watched me mourn her! You comforted me at her funeral!"
"Shoot me then!" Salvatore spat, blood dripping from his lip. "Do it! But if I die, the Falcones take the docks tonight! I gave Carmine the access codes two hours ago as insurance! If I don't check in by midnight, Carmine’s men burn your warehouses to the ground and leak Catherine’s ledger to the federal prosecutor!"
Adrian’s finger tightened on the trigger. His heart pounded like a war drum in his ears. Every instinct screamed at him to put a bullet through the brain of the man who had stolen his mother.
Then, a image flashed through his mind.
A three-year-old girl standing in his study, holding a teddy bear, looking up at him with unyielding brown eyes.
Mommy says you have to say sorry when you do bad things.
May you like
Adrian took a slow, deep breath. He pulled the gun back, striking Salvatore hard across the face with the heavy steel handle, knocking him unconscious onto the cold floor.
"Tie him to the pillar," Adrian ordered his men coldly. "Dominic, get the team ready. We’re going to the docks. And bring the ledger."
