Chapter 2 - FIVE DONS AND ONE LITTLE GIRL
Table of Contents 6
By seven that evening, five of the most dangerous men on the East Coast were seated beneath the chandeliers in Damiano Moretti’s ballroom, completely unaware that thirty minutes earlier an explosive device had been removed from beneath the desk where they were supposed to sign a peace agreement.
I knew because I was serving their drinks.
Damiano had wanted Emma and me moved to a safe house immediately, but Gabriel argued against it. If Isabella had people watching the mansion, seeing us suddenly escorted away would confirm that Emma had talked.
So Emma remained upstairs under guard while I carried a silver tray into the ballroom and tried to keep my hands from shaking.
Don Carlo Vitale sat closest to the fireplace. Beside him were Vincent Russo, Anthony Marino, Luca Ferraro, and Joseph Santoro. Each had arrived with armed men, attorneys, and enough suspicion to poison the room without anyone firing a shot.
Damiano stood at the head of the long table.
“Gentlemen, we have an unexpected security matter.”
Carlo Vitale leaned back.
“What kind?”
“The kind that requires patience.”
Vincent Russo laughed humorlessly. “You invited five families into your home and now want patience?”
Damiano placed both hands on the table.
“Thirty minutes ago, we discovered an explosive device beneath the desk in my study.”
Nobody moved.
Then every man started speaking at once.
Security guards reached beneath jackets. Chairs scraped backward. One of Russo’s men immediately moved toward the door.
Damiano didn’t raise his voice.
“Sit down.”
Something about the way he said it silenced everyone.
“The device was intended to kill all six of us. Had it succeeded, our organizations would have blamed one another before the bodies were cold.”
Carlo’s expression darkened.
“Who planted it?”
“We’re finding out.”
“You expect us to remain here while you investigate?”
“No. I expect you to remain here because whoever did this wants you frightened, angry, and separated. Leaving this house is exactly what they want.”
That argument worked better than any threat.
The men slowly returned to their seats.
Then Damiano did something nobody expected.
He asked Gabriel to bring Emma downstairs.
I nearly dropped my tray.
“Damiano—”
He looked at me.
“She is the only witness.”
“I don’t want her in this room.”
Neither did he. I could see it.
But five suspicious dons were not going to accept a story without evidence, especially when the evidence accused the daughter of another powerful family.
Gabriel brought Emma through the doors.
She wore her yellow cardigan and held her rag doll against her chest. Six armed guards surrounded her, which somehow made her look even smaller.
Every conversation stopped.
Carlo Vitale frowned.
“This is your witness?”
“She saw the device being planted.”
Emma looked around the table nervously.
I hurried to her side and took her hand.
Damiano placed her drawing on the table.
The men leaned closer.
When Carlo saw the black bird tattoo, his face changed.
“Bellini.”
Anthony Marino stared at him.
“Marco Bellini is dead.”
“No,” Damiano replied. “Apparently he isn’t.”
Carlo picked up Emma’s drawing.
“And the woman?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Emma did.
“The shiny lady.”
Damiano removed a photograph from his pocket and placed it beside the drawing.
Isabella Romano.
Silence spread across the ballroom.
Joseph Santoro slowly exhaled.
“You’re accusing your own fiancée of attempting to assassinate six dons?”
“I’m accusing no one yet.”
Emma tugged gently at my fingers.
“Mommy, that’s her.”
Every eye turned toward us.
Damiano’s voice remained controlled.
“Emma, are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Carlo stared at the child for several seconds before looking at Damiano.
“If this is true, Romano has declared war on every family represented here.”
That was precisely what frightened me.
Isabella’s father, Salvatore Romano, controlled territory stretching from New Jersey into Philadelphia. If he had authorized the attack, the peace agreement had never been real.
It had been a trap.
Then one of Damiano’s guards rushed into the ballroom and whispered something to Gabriel.
Gabriel’s face drained.
Damiano noticed.
“What?”
“We found Marco Bellini.”
“Where?”
“Garage level.”
“Alive?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Barely.”
Damiano left immediately.
The dons followed.
I wanted to take Emma upstairs, but she refused to release my hand. Eventually Gabriel placed four guards around us and allowed us to follow at a distance.
Marco Bellini was lying beside a black sedan in the underground garage.
Blood stained his shirt.
A gun lay several feet away.
One of Damiano’s doctors pressed gauze against his side while Marco struggled to remain conscious.
Damiano knelt beside him.
“Who ordered the bomb?”
Marco laughed weakly.
“You already know.”
“Isabella?”
Marco’s eyes shifted toward Emma.
Recognition flashed across his face.
“The kid.”
I pulled Emma behind me.
Damiano grabbed Marco’s collar.
“You look at me.”
Marco coughed.
“She wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Who gave the order?”
Marco swallowed painfully.
Then he whispered, “Romano.”
Carlo Vitale stepped closer.
“Salvatore?”
Marco shook his head.
“No.”
Damiano froze.
“Then which Romano?”
Marco looked toward him and smiled through bloody teeth.
“Your bride.”
The garage became completely silent.
“She planned everything,” Marco continued. “Her father doesn’t know. Nobody does.”
“Why?”
Marco’s breathing became shallow.
“She didn’t want peace.”
Damiano leaned closer.
“What did she want?”
Marco’s answer came barely above a whisper.
“Your empire.”
The doctor tried to move him, but Marco caught Damiano’s sleeve.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“The bomb wasn’t the real plan.”
Damiano’s face changed.
Marco coughed again.
“The bomb was supposed to start the war. You were supposed to survive.”
“Why?”
“So everyone would come after you.”
Marco’s eyes moved toward me.
Then toward Emma.
His next words made my stomach drop.
“Isabella knows about Sophia.”
Damiano went completely still.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Marco gave a faint, dying smile.
“Ask him.”
My eyes remained on Damiano.
“Ask him what?”
Nobody answered.
Not Gabriel.
Not Marco.
Not Damiano.
And suddenly I realized that Isabella wasn’t the only person in that mansion who had been keeping a secret from me.
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