Chapter 13 - The Blackmailer’s Unmasking in Front of Eighty Thousand Viewers
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The Moretti Enterprises tower stood fifty-two stories tall, a monolith of black tinted glass and brushed chrome overlooking the dark waters of the Chicago River.
At five-fifty a.m., the executive penthouse boardroom on the top floor was ablaze with light.
Through the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, we could see shadows of men in bespoke suits pacing nervously around a forty-foot mahogany conference table. Silvio Moretti—a heavyset man of fifty-eight with slicked-back gray hair, a gold pinky ring, and a double-breasted charcoal pinstripe suit—stood at the head of the table, waving a legal contract in the air, his booming voice muffled by the soundproof double glazing.
Our Escalades pulled directly onto the granite plaza outside the private executive entrance.
Luca, Matteo, Ramirez, and I stepped out into the freezing morning wind. The rain had finally ceased, replaced by a biting lake frost that coated the sidewalks in a thin sheen of ice.
“Two private security guards on the elevator lobby,” Matteo observed, scanning the glass facade. “Silvio’s personal mercenaries from Detroit. Heavy body armor and concealed automatics.”
“They won't be a problem,” Luca said calmly.
He walked through the sliding glass doors with the terrifying confidence of a conqueror returning to reclaim his throne.
The two private guards immediately moved into defensive positions, reaching inside their tactical jackets. “Sir, the building is closed until eight a.m. by order of Executive Director Silvio—”
Luca didn't slow down.
Before the first guard could clear his holster, Luca drove an open-palm strike straight into the man’s sternum, driving the air from his lungs and slamming him back against the marble security console. Matteo moved simultaneously, sweeping the second guard's legs out from under him and pinning him to the floor with a knee to the spine.
Luca pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner of the private executive express elevator.
*BEEP.* The red indicator turned bright green. *ACCESS GRANTED: LUCA A. MORETTI - CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER.*
The mirrored doors slid shut. The elevator shot upward at twenty floors per second.
Inside the quiet cabin, Luca turned to me. He reached out and smoothed the lapel of my navy dress, his gray eyes searching mine.
“Whatever happens in that room,” he said, “stay behind me. Silvio is desperate. A wounded animal with nothing left to lose will strike at anything.”
“I’m not afraid of him, Luca,” I replied, looking directly into his gaze. “Your mother stood up to him from a hospital bed. I can stand up to him in a boardroom.”
A breathtaking, proud smile broke across his handsome face. He leaned down, his lips brushing my forehead with tender reverence. “You are the strongest woman I have ever known.”
*DING.*
The elevator chime rang out. The doors parted onto the plush carpeting of the 52nd-floor executive suite.
The boardroom double doors were open. Silvio’s voice carried through the corridor with oily triumphalism:
“...and upon ratification of this emergency decree, the shipping terminals in Gary and Milwaukee will be leased directly to our international logistics partners for three hundred million dollars! All residual charitable obligations under the Elena Moretti name will be written off as uncollectible corporate debt!”
Nine board members—corrupt businessmen whose fortunes depended on Silvio’s illicit shipping pipelines—nodded eagerly, pens in hand, preparing to sign the documents.
Luca stepped through the doorway.
“Put the pens down,” Luca commanded.
The sound was not a shout. It was a low, velvet decree that chilled the very air in the room.
Silvio froze mid-sentence, his gold pen hovering over the signature line. The nine board members gasped, several leaping from their chairs as if a specter had materialized before them.
“Luca?” Silvio stammered, his florid face turning the color of curdled milk. “You... how are you here? Silas said... Silas confirmed that the situation at the terminal was handled!”
“Silas Cole is currently in federal handcuffs on his way to the Metropolitan Correctional Center, Uncle,” Luca said, stepping slowly toward the head of the table. “And he sang every verse of your arrangement before the ink on his confession was dry.”
Silvio’s eyes darted frantically toward the doorway, where Matteo and Investigator Ramirez stood with gold badges and drawn sidearms.
“This is an internal corporate dispute!” Silvio shouted, his voice cracking into desperation. “You have no authority here, Luca! The board voted to suspend your executive powers following your erratic conduct at the engagement dinner last night! You threw away the Bellini alliance! You ruined our political protection!”
“The Bellini alliance was a treasonous fraud,” Luca said, pulling Elena’s black leather journal from his coat and slamming it onto the center of the mahogany table.
The heavy book landed with a thunderous *crack* that rattled the crystal water carafes.
“In this book are forty-two pages detailing your secret offshore kickbacks from the Sinaloa logistics syndicate,” Luca continued, his voice ringing like an executioner's bell. “It details how you bribed municipal harbor inspectors to look the other way while container ships moved undocumented cargo through our docks. And right here, on page twenty-seven, is the forged signature you used to embezzle twelve million dollars from my mother’s oncology foundation six months after she was buried.”
Several board members turned pale and slowly pushed their chairs back from the table, wanting nothing to do with the man standing at the podium.
Silvio’s face twisted into unadulterated madness.
“You ungrateful bastard!” Silvio roared. “Your father built this empire with blood and iron! And you wanted to turn it into a church! Giving millions to scum on the streets! Feeding trash from our kitchens! I won't let you give my inheritance away to beggars!”
Silvio reached beneath the executive podium, whipped out a compact nickel-plated pistol, and aimed it directly at Luca’s chest!
“Luca, look out!” I screamed!
*BANG!*
A deafening shot tore through the glass penthouse!
Luca lunged forward, twisting his body to shield me completely. The bullet grazed Luca’s left bicep, tearing through his dark cashmere coat and drawing a line of bright crimson blood across the fabric!
Before Silvio could fire a second round, Matteo fired twice from the doorway!
The rounds took Silvio in the right shoulder and right knee. Silvio shrieked in agony, dropping the weapon as he collapsed onto the carpet behind the podium, clutching his bleeding shoulder as federal tactical officers swarmed the room!
“Secure the weapon! Hands behind your back, Silvio Moretti! You’re under arrest for attempted murder, federal racketeering, and corporate espionage!”
I rushed forward, my hands shaking violently as I reached for Luca. “Luca! You’re shot! You’re bleeding!”
Luca didn't look at his wound. He grabbed my shoulders, pulling me into his chest, checking me frantically with his uninjured arm. “Are you hurt? Natalie, did it touch you?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” I cried, tears spilling over my cheeks as I pressed my hand against the bloody tear in his coat. “You’re bleeding, you idiot!”
He looked down at me, breathing heavily, and despite the chaos, the smoke, and the shouting federal agents around us, a radiant, tender smile lit up his face.
May you like
“It’s just a scratch,” he murmured softly, lifting my chin with his thumb to wipe away my tears. “I’ve survived worse storms than this. But the viper in my house is finally dead.”
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