Chapter 7 - Venom in the Wine
The dining hall gleamed under the crystal chandeliers, reflecting off polished sterling silver and antique porcelain. Salvatore Moretti sat across from Dante, an aging lion with slicked-back gray hair and cold, calculating eyes. Beside him sat Bianca Moretti, dressed in an emerald designer gown, dripping in emeralds and disdain. From the moment she stepped over the threshold, her venomous gaze had pinned me like a common thief wearing borrowed silk.
"So this is the celebrated charity director, Dante?" Bianca purred, swirling a glass of vintage Cabernet, her painted red lips curling into a mocking smirk. "A runaway maid with a stray bastard, elevated to the master suite. My poor cousin Carmela must be turning in her crypt."
Dante’s wine glass shattered on the table. Red wine pooled across the white linen like fresh blood. The armed guards stationed along the wood-paneled walls shifted their weight, their hands resting on concealed submachine guns. Dante didn't raise his voice, but the chilling frequency of his tone made the entire room temperature plummet.
"Speak of Carmela with your filthy mouth again, Bianca, and you will leave Chicago in a pine box," Dante growled, leaning forward until his shadow cast over Salvatore. "And if you ever insult Rosa or Sophia in this house, I won't bother with a burial."
Salvatore raised a calm, leather-gloved hand, signaling his daughter to be quiet. "Calm yourself, Dante. We did not travel from Manhattan to dispute domestic arrangements. We came because your recent actions exposed our shared transport routes to federal agents. Marcus Bennett sang like a canary before they transferred him to ADX Florence. He gave up offshore accounts that belonged to the Commission."
"Marcus was a parasite who threatened my family," Dante replied coldly, not backing down an inch. "I wiped him out. If your routes were tangled with his filth, that is your failure of oversight, Salvatore. Not mine."
"Perhaps," Salvatore smiled thinly, reaching into his tailored jacket. He withdrew a thick manila folder and slid it across the damp tablecloth toward Dante. "Then explain this, Falcone. Our forensic accountants pulled these transactions last week. It appears Marcus wasn't just working with the Valentis. Someone inside your inner circle funded his initial weapon purchases. Someone using an old bank account registered under your late wife’s maiden name."
My blood ran cold. Dante frowned, his heavy brow furrowing as he opened the folder. The documents showed wired transactions originating from a dormant Swiss account tied to Carmela’s estate, transferring hundreds of thousands of dollars to Marcus’s shell corporations six months prior.
"This is impossible," Dante muttered, his jaw clenching so hard the veins bulged in his temples. "Only two people ever had the cryptographic keys to Carmela’s private trust. Carmela herself, and..."
"And me," Bianca finished smoothly, leaning back in her chair with a triumphant grin. "Carmela trusted me with her emergency contingencies, Dante. When she realized how reckless your lifestyle had become, she prepared an escape hatch. Marcus Bennett approached me claiming he had dirt on you. I gave him the funds to buy evidence, not to mount an assault on your manor. But the paper trail leads directly back to this estate. If the Commission investigates, you look like a traitor who orchestrated an attack on his own syndicate."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the dining hall swung open. Sophia slipped through the opening, clutching her yellow blanket, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Behind her, Mrs. Higgins, the elderly housekeeper, gasped in horror.
"Mama..." Sophia whined softly, walking straight past the armed mobsters.
Bianca sneered, rolling her eyes. "Keep the brat away from the table, for God's sake."
Sophia stopped right beside Bianca's chair. She tilted her head, her big brown eyes fixing onto Bianca’s ornate diamond pendant. Then, Sophia wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"You smell like the bitter water under the sink," Sophia said, her clear childish voice echoing across the silent hall. "The pretty lady says you put the bad drops in her tea before she went to sleep forever."
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The silence that followed was suffocating. Dante froze, his eyes snapping from Sophia to Bianca, whose arrogant smirk instantly dissolved into pure, panicked terror.
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