Chapter 4 - Shattering the Banquet Table
The quiet did not last for more than a single terrifying heartbeat.
Dante Moretti rose to his towering full height, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the entire hall in darkness.
He turned toward the long, dark wooden banquet table positioned beside the grand staircase.
With the full, terrifying momentum of his muscular frame, Dante raised the thick document folder high into the air.
He brought it down against the polished mahogany with the sonic fury of an artillery strike.
The explosive impact detonated through the estate, scattering loose sheets of paper into the air like frightened white doves.
Nearby crystal glasses rattled furiously against their silver trays, two of them tipping over and shattering across the wood.
Fine shards of crystal sprayed across the polished surface, catching the amber glow of the chandeliers.
Donna Sofia flinched in her seat, but her tear-streaked eyes never left her son’s formidable silhouette.
“MY MOM CAN’T SIGN WITH THAT HAND!” Dante roared, his voice shaking the crystal pendants hanging overhead.
The pure, unadulterated venom in his shout stripped away every ounce of Victoria’s aristocratic composure.
He pointed an accusing, heavy finger directly at the fraudulent papers, then stabbed the air toward his mother’s braced limb.
“Who forged this, Victoria?” Dante bellowed, stepping forward like an advancing wall of iron.
“Who tied my seventy-six-year-old mother to a chair while I was across town securing our borders?”
Victoria backed away, her golden heels slipping slightly on the slick marble as absolute panic overtook her senses.
The diamond necklace at her throat rose and fell frantically against her golden gown as her pulse skyrocketed into madness.
She looked at Dante’s eyes and saw no man, no fiancé, and no lover; she saw the undisputed boss of the Chicago syndicate.
There was no forgiveness in those black irises, only an ancient, ruthless judgment waiting to be executed.
She knew the penalties for treason within the Moretti household, and she knew those penalties did not distinguish between genders.
Her mouth snapped shut, the lies choking in her throat as she realized her elaborate frame job had completely collapsed.
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The legal papers were still drifting down through the air, settling like fallen leaves over the broken glass on the banquet table.
Without uttering another word, Victoria spun on her heel, gathered the fabric of her golden-yellow gown, and bolted toward freedom.
