Chapter 2 - The Wrath of Adrian Moretti
Adrian Moretti did not raise his voice often, because when he did, men usually died.
At thirty-four, he was the undisputed sovereign of Chicago’s underground empire.
He was a man built of sharp angles, tailored Italian wool, and absolute, terrifying authority.
His dark hair was cut razor-short, and his slate-gray eyes possessed an unnerving, predatory stillness.
He had survived gang wars, federal indictments, and backroom betrayals to take the throne of the Moretti syndicate.
The billionaires seated at his table were men who controlled global shipping lines and hedge funds.
Yet at this exact moment, every single one of those powerful men shrank back into their cushioned chairs.
Adrian adjusted the gold cufflink on his left wrist with glacial slowness.
His gaze swept past the cowering guests and locked onto his radiant fiancée.
“WHY ARE YOU HUMILIATING HER?”
The question did not come out as a shout.
It was a low, resonant growl that vibrated through the floorboards.
Vanessa visibly flinched, the smug triumph instantly evaporating from her painted face.
She forced a nervous, breathless laugh and immediately shifted her posture, trying to appear soft and delicate.
She placed a manicured hand over her chest, fluttering her eyelashes in a desperate bid for sympathy.
“Adrian, darling, you startled me,” Vanessa purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
“I am simply maintaining discipline in your home, sweetheart.”
“This woman is completely irresponsible.”
“I discovered just an hour ago that tonight is her daughter’s college graduation.”
“Can you believe that?”
“Instead of being there to support her child, Maria insisted on working tonight just to claim holiday overtime pay!”
“I was simply reminding her that money cannot buy back a mother’s duty.”
Vanessa smiled warmly at the guests, seeking validation from the nodding sycophants around the room.
“I believe in family values, Adrian.”
“You know how passionately I work for our youth foundations.”
“It broke my heart to see a mother neglect her daughter so blatantly under your roof.”
Maria kept her head bowed against the floor, her tears falling soundlessly onto the shattered porcelain.
She knew how Adrian Moretti operated.
He valued loyalty, honor, and truth above all human commodities.
If he believed Vanessa’s poisonous lie, Maria would not just lose her job tonight.
She would lose her reference, her pension, and any chance of helping Emily start her new life.
Adrian took three deliberate steps toward the broken china.
The heavy tread of his handmade leather shoes echoed like a death march in the cavernous room.
He stopped just inches from where Maria knelt.
His cold gray eyes looked down at the coffee-soaked uniform and the trembling hands.
He saw the bloody scratch on her knuckle where a shard of broken glass had sliced into her skin.
Then his eyes moved to the crushed white rose beneath Vanessa’s designer heel.
Adrian had lived in this estate his entire life.
He remembered who had brought him warm chamomile tea when his own mother died twelve years ago.
It had not been the socialites or the high-ranking mafia capos.
It had been Maria Ramos, who had quietly placed a cup beside his desk and left without saying a word.
Adrian looked up, his face an unreadable mask of granite.
“You told her she couldn't leave, didn't you, Vanessa?” Adrian asked softly.
Vanessa’s eyes flashed with a flicker of panic, but she quickly masked it behind a mask of righteous indignation.
“Adrian! How could you even ask me that?”
“Why would I ever keep a mother away from her daughter’s graduation?”
“I begged her to go!”
“I offered to let her take the night off without pay, but she was greedy!”
“She insisted on the double-time bonus!”
Vanessa sighed dramatically, turning to the wealthy wives seated at the table.
“It is always the same with these people.”
“They claim to sacrifice for their children, but when cash is on the table, their true priorities come out.”
A chorus of quiet murmurs agreed with her.
The narrative was set.
The wealthy philanthropist was the voice of reason, and the poor housemaid was a selfish mercenary.
Maria felt the cold walls of hopelessness closing in around her throat.
She had no voice here.
She was a shadow in a house of giants.
No one in this room was ever going to believe the maid over the future queen of the Moretti family.
Maria began to gather the sharp pieces of porcelain into her bleeding palms, wanting only to disappear into the dark.
“I am sorry, Mr. Moretti,” Maria choked out, her voice barely audible.
“I will clean this immediately and pack my things.”
“I will leave before midnight.”
Vanessa let out a small, satisfied breath, believing she had won the day.
Adrian didn’t answer.
His gaze was fixed on the heavy double oak doors at the end of the long gallery corridor.
He heard something that the others were too busy gossiping to notice.
The distinct, hurried click of high heels running across the marble entrance foyer.
May you like
The panicked shouts of the security guards stationed outside the grand entrance.
And then, before anyone could react, the heavy double doors were violently thrown open.
