Chapter 6 - Kneeling in the Rain
The next morning broke under heavy, slate-grey clouds that soon opened into a torrential downpour. Water cascaded down the glass panels of Bennett Tower, mirroring the grim reality awaiting the Moretti dynasty.
At exactly 11:45 AM, three black Cadillac Escalades pulled up to the front entrance.
I stood in the expansive main lobby, flanked by Arthur Bennett’s private security detail and the five most powerful syndicate captains in Chicago—men who held the real street power and who had realized overnight that their paychecks, freedom, and futures lay in the hands of the Bennett family, not the bankrupt Morettis.
The revolving doors turned, and Vittorio Moretti stepped inside.
He looked hollowed out, his expensive overcoat soaked with rain, his shoulders stooped under the weight of utter defeat. Behind him walked Vincent.
My husband looked as though he hadn't slept in three days. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, the arrogant smirk that had defined him for years thoroughly erased. When he saw me standing beside Captain Lorenzo and Captain Bianchi—his two most loyal commanders—his knees visibly buckled.
""Lorenzo? Bianchi?"" Vincent rasped, his voice trembling. ""What are you doing here?""
Lorenzo, a scarred veteran of the Chicago docks, didn't even look Vincent in the eye. ""We follow the money and the power, kid. And right now, your family couldn't buy a cup of coffee without Miss Bennett's approval.""
Vittorio stepped forward, leaning heavily on his umbrella. He looked at me, his jaw working as he swallowed the bitter pill of total subjugation.
""We are here, Claire,"" Vittorio said, his voice echoing in the vast, quiet lobby. ""The paperwork for the divorce has been filed. All claims on your assets have been abandoned. Sophia Reynolds was put on a bus to Florida two hours ago with nothing but the clothes on her back and five hundred dollars. She will never return to this state.""
I looked at Vincent. ""And you?""
Vincent took a step toward me, his hands shaking at his sides. ""Claire... please. Look at me. Don't do this to me. I was an idiot. I was weak. I let Sophia get into my head because she made me feel powerful when I was suffocating under my father's expectations. But it was always you. I swear to God, it was always you!""
""You didn't think of me when you booked Room 1402, Vincent,"" I said, my voice steady, merciless, and calm. ""You didn't think of me when you demanded I apologize to her at your father's table. You thought I was helpless. You thought I was a nobody you could step on to make yourself feel like a king.""
""I was wrong!"" Vincent cried, suddenly dropping to his knees on the slick marble floor.
Gasps rippled through the security guards and the captains. The great heir of the Moretti crime family was on his knees, weeping in front of his estranged wife, heedless of the rain dripping from his hair onto the stone.
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""Please, Claire,"" he sobbed, reaching out toward the hem of my coat. ""Don't take the succession away from me. It's all I have. Without the family, I'm nothing.""
""You were nothing the moment you broke your word,"" I said, taking a step back so his fingers grasped only empty air. ""You wanted to be treated like an ordinary husband who makes mistakes? Then accept the consequence of an ordinary man: you lose the woman who built you.""
