Chapter 5 - Luca’s Reckoning
The sun rose over Lake Michigan, casting a cold, pewter light across the city of Chicago. By eight in the morning, the financial district was humming with rumors, but the real storm was brewing in the private boardrooms where Luca Ferretti believed his power was absolute.
I sat in a high-floor conference room in the Prudential Plaza, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that Alessandro’s people had procured for me at dawn. My hair was pulled back into a sharp, uncompromising chignon; my lips were painted a deep, unapologetic crimson. The meek, soft-spoken girl who had walked three steps behind Luca at charity galas had been buried in the ballroom of the Allegro Hotel.
Across the long glass table sat Marcus Vance, the managing director of the bank that held Luca’s primary operating accounts. Vance was sweating through his bespoke collar, clutching a thick stack of legal demands signed by the trustees of the Moretti estate.
""Mrs. Ferretti—or, excuse me, Miss Russo,"" Vance stammered, frantically adjusting his glasses. ""This... this is completely unprecedented. If we freeze these credit lines, the Ferretti syndicate won't be able to pay their transport logistics teams by noon. The union bosses will shut down the entire South Side depot.""
""Then you had better ensure the freeze takes effect by eleven-thirty, Mr. Vance,"" I said, leaning back in my chair with deliberate ease. ""My mother’s trust provides fifty-five percent of your institution’s commercial liquidity. If you hesitate, even for ten minutes, to protect Luca Ferretti from the reality of his insolvency, I will withdraw every cent of our capital and transfer it to Chase before the market closes.""
Vance swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he reached for his pen. ""I understand completely, Miss Russo. The accounts will be suspended immediately.""
While Vance rushed out of the room to execute the orders, Alessandro entered, holding a secure satellite phone. His expression was dark, but his eyes carried an unmistakable spark of admiration.
""The council bosses from New York just landed at O'Hare,"" Alessandro reported, setting the phone on the table. ""They called for an emergency meeting at the Union League Club at two o’clock. Luca called them at dawn, claiming that rogue operatives had kidnapped his wife and were attempting a hostile takeover of his businesses.""
""Has he realized who owns the debt yet?"" I asked.
""Not yet,"" Alessandro smirked. ""He thinks Vanguard Crest is an offshore hedge fund controlled by a rival syndicate out of Detroit. He has no idea that the signature on the default notice belongs to the girl who used to iron his shirts.""
""Let's make sure he finds out in person,"" I said, standing up and smoothing the lines of my jacket. ""Call our security detail. We are going to the Union League Club.""
""Clara,"" Alessandro cautioned, stepping into my path, his gaze intense and protective. ""The Union League Club is neutral ground, but there will be fifty armed men in that building. If Luca loses his mind when he sees you—""
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""Luca only attacks those he believes are weaker than him,"" I interrupted, looking directly into Alessandro’s eyes. ""He spent four years making sure I felt helpless. He needs to see that the woman he tried to crush was holding his leash the entire time. Are you with me, Alessandro, or do you only follow instructions from dead women?""
A low chuckle rumbled in Alessandro's chest, a sound that sent an unexpected shiver of warmth down my spine. ""I have followed many leaders in my life, Clara. But I believe you are the only one I would gladly follow into the fire. Let's go make your husband pay his debts.""
