Chapter 5 - The Master of Chicago
Vanessa took two rapid steps backward until her spine hit the edge of the grand dining table.
The crystal glasses rattled behind her back.
Her polished exterior had completely disintegrated.
The mascara beneath her eyes was beginning to run, and her designer gown looked like a shroud.
“Adrian, please,” she begged, her voice shrinking to a pathetic whimper.
“I love you.”
“Everything I did, I did to elevate the Moretti name in polite society!”
“The politicians, the senators, the federal judges—they all attend my charity galas!”
“They respect us because of my work!”
“If this gets out, it will ruin our standing!”
“Think of the family, Adrian!”
Adrian looked at her with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust.
It was the way a man looked at a cockroach crawling across his dinner plate.
“You dare mention the Moretti family honor with that filthy tongue?” Adrian asked.
His voice remained dreadfully calm, which only made it a thousand times more terrifying.
“My father built this empire on one single, unbreakable law.”
“We do not bleed the people who serve us.”
“We protect those under our roof.”
“Maria Ramos has been in this house since I was twelve years old.”
Adrian turned his head slightly toward the head of his private security detail.
Standing near the arched entrance was Marco Varga.
Marco was an imposing, battle-scarred man who had served Adrian’s father for twenty years.
His cold eyes were locked onto Adrian, waiting for the slightest gesture.
“Marco,” Adrian commanded.
“Boss,” Marco replied instantly.
“Lock the perimeter gates.”
“Nobody leaves this room.”
“Not a single guest, not a single waiter, not a single driver.”
A murmur of alarm rippled through the thirty billionaires seated at the table.
Several men began to reach for their phones, their faces pale with anxiety.
“Adrian, be reasonable,” one prominent hedge-fund manager said, holding up his hands.
“We are your business partners.”
“We have nothing to do with Miss Sterling’s personal foundation.”
Adrian didn't even look at the man.
“If anyone touches a phone before I say so, they will lose the hand that holds it,” Adrian said evenly.
The hedge-fund manager dropped his phone onto the table like it was made of red-hot coal.
The room descended into a state of total, paralyzed obedience.
Adrian looked back at Marco.
“Call our forensic accounting team downtown.”
“I want a complete, unredacted audit of the Sterling Hope Foundation.”
“I want every bank account, every offshore routing number, every donor receipt from the last five years.”
“And I want the surveillance footage from Miss Sterling’s personal office in the West Wing.”
Vanessa’s eyes went wide with pure panic.
“No!” she screamed, throwing herself toward Adrian’s arm.
“Adrian, you can’t do that!”
“That foundation is private!”
“It is protected under state confidentiality laws!”
Adrian ripped his arm away from her grasp as if her touch carried the plague.
“In this city, Vanessa, I am the law.”
Maria was still kneeling on the floor, her arms wrapped around Emily’s waist.
She looked up at Adrian, her voice trembling with concern despite her own trauma.
“Mr. Moretti, please...” Maria pleaded gently.
“Do not cause violence because of us.”
“Emily has her degree now.”
“We can just go.”
“We don't need any trouble, sir.”
Adrian looked down at the woman who had wiped his fevered brow when he was a grieving boy.
His gaze softened, but the cold resolve beneath it remained unbreakable.
He bent down, extending his large, scarred hand to Maria.
Maria hesitated, looking at her dirty, coffee-stained fingers.
“Take my hand, Maria,” Adrian said softly.
With trembling fingers, Maria placed her hand in his.
Adrian gripped her firmly and pulled her effortlessly to her feet.
He turned to Emily, his eyes sweeping over her stained graduation gown and the diploma in her hand.
“You have your mother’s courage, young lady,” Adrian said with genuine respect.
“Most men in this room would have run from this house.”
“You walked right into the lion’s den to defend your mother’s name.”
“She is all I have, Mr. Moretti,” Emily replied, her chin held high despite the tears drying on her skin.
“I would burn the world down before I let someone erase her.”
Adrian allowed the faintest shadow of a smile to touch his lips.
“A girl after my own heart.”
Just then, the heavy vibration of a cell phone echoed from Marco’s pocket.
The security chief pulled out the encrypted device and pressed it to his ear.
As he listened to the voice on the other end, Marco’s weathered face suddenly shifted.
The stoic neutrality of the seasoned soldier disappeared, replaced by sheer shock and mounting rage.
He hung up the phone, stepped past the terrified guests, and approached Adrian.
May you like
Marco leaned in close and whispered three short sentences into Adrian Moretti’s ear.
As the words sank in, Vanessa Sterling turned ghostly, deathly pale.
