Chapter 9 - The Debt of a King
Twenty-four hours later, the chaos had been entirely erased from the Moretti estate. The shattered glass was replaced, the smoke residue professionally scrubbed, and forty heavily armed guards loyal solely to Lorenzo patrolled the outer perimeters. The corrupt police captain had been arrested by state troopers, and Salvatore's entire faction had been thoroughly purged from the city within a single night.
I sat on a velvet sofa in the grand library, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes provided by the estate staff. Mia was sitting on an antique Persian rug at my feet, happily eating strawberries and playing with Barnaby, completely oblivious to how close we had come to death the night before.
The double doors opened, and Lorenzo Moretti walked in.
He wore a tailored charcoal suit that concealed his bandages, though he walked with the slight, measured stiffness of a recovering patient. The hollow look in his cheeks was already fading, replaced by the imposing, aristocratic aura that had made him famous across New York.
I immediately started to stand up, my old survival instincts telling me to show deference to the mafia kingpin, but Lorenzo held up a gentle hand.
"Sit, Clara," he said softly, taking a seat across from us on a high-backed leather chair. "Please."
He looked down at Mia, who paused mid-bite of her strawberry, tilted her head, and offered him a sticky, cheerful smile.
"The mister isn't sleeping anymore," Mia announced proudly.
A rare, genuine smile softened the harsh lines of Lorenzo's face. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and set it on the coffee table. Inside was a tiny, beautifully crafted gold necklace featuring a delicate sun pendant surrounded by yellow diamonds.
"For forty-nine days, I was trapped inside my own skull," Lorenzo said, his voice low and solemn as he looked from Mia to me. "I could hear the doctors saying I was brain dead. I could hear my uncle whispering in my ear that he was taking my city. I tried to scream, I tried to move, but the poison had me pinned beneath five miles of black water. I was giving up, Clara. My heart was stopping."
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I listened to him.
"And then," Lorenzo continued softly, his gaze resting on my daughter, "a little voice started singing about sunshine. She held my hand, and for the first time in seven weeks, the darkness pulled back. Her warmth gave my brain the spark it needed to fight that chemical poison. Your daughter saved my life. And you risked yours to stop Vance's needle."
"Any mother would have done it," I whispered.
May you like
"No," Lorenzo countered, leaning forward with fierce intensity. "Most people would have run away to save themselves. You stood your ground against an assassin with an unloaded gun you barely knew how to operate. You have more courage than half the soldiers in my syndicate."
He opened a leather portfolio on the table, revealing a stack of legal documents with official state seals.
