Chapter 3 - The Sister’s Ultimatum
The sleek white Porsche ground to a halt beside Dante's Escalade. The driver’s door flew open, and Victoria stepped out into the rain.
She looked every bit the Mafia queen she had fought to become. Her platinum blonde hair was styled immaculately, wrapped in a camel hair coat that cost more than my first year of rent in Zurich. But the composed, aristocratic veneer shattered the moment her manicured nails slammed the car door shut.
"Dante!" she shouted, strutting across the wet pavement in designer heels. "Your men told me you abandoned the syndicate summit to rush to the airport. Have you lost your mind? The council is waiting for—"
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Her gaze shifted from Dante to me, and the color drained completely from her flawless face.
"Elena?" she gasped, her voice thinning out.
"Hello, Victoria," I said coldly.
Victoria’s eyes darted past me to the SUV, catching sight of the little boy sitting inside with Mia. Her pupils constricted into pinpricks of pure terror. She wasn't stupid; she had known Dante since childhood. One look at Leo’s features was enough to know that the Moretti lineage had continued, and it hadn't come from her womb.
"What is this?" Victoria demanded, rounding on Dante with sudden hysteria. "Who is that child? Why did you bring her back here?"
"She didn't come for me," Dante replied, his voice dropping into a register so chillingly calm that even the dockworkers in the distance stopped moving. "She came to move her father’s remains. But you knew she was pregnant, didn't you, Victoria?"
Victoria recoiled slightly, crossing her arms defensively. "That’s absurd! She vanished! She ran away to Europe without saying goodbye to anyone!"
"Don't lie to me," Dante stepped toward her, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her. "Three years ago, you handed me a bank statement showing a five-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer out of your father’s Swiss account to an unnamed clinic in Zurich. You told me Elena took the money to start a new life with an art dealer."
He pulled a fresh document from his pocket—a copy of a wire transfer trace.
"I had my auditors dig into that Swiss account an hour ago, right after I saw Elena at the gate," Dante growled. "That money never went to Elena. You wired it to your personal shell corporation in Monaco. Elena spent the last three years living in a studio apartment in Zurich, working freelance translations while raising my son."
Victoria took a frantic step back, her heels slipping on the slick concrete. "Dante, listen to me! I did what was necessary for the family! She was weak! She couldn't handle this life! If the enemies knew she had your heir, they would have butchered them both! I protected you! I gave you the Carter docks!"
"You blackmailed me into a loveless ring," Dante said, his voice flat and devoid of humanity. "And you kept me from my own flesh and blood."
"You can't divorce me!" Victoria shrieked, panic unraveling her voice. "The Carter syndicate controls thirty percent of the shipping port! If you discard me, my faction will align with the remaining Rossi capos! They’ll take your territory, Dante! You’ll start a war on the streets!"
I stepped forward then, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dante. The fear that had kept me running for three years suddenly evaporated, replaced by the fierce, protective rage of a mother who had fought the world alone.
"The Carter docks don't belong to you, Victoria," I said clearly.
Victoria sneered at me. "Shut up, Elena! You were the discarded little mistress! You know nothing about father's estate!"
"I know everything," I said, meeting her venomous glare. "Father’s will left the controlling voting shares of Carter Shipping to his firstborn grandchild. He knew you were barren from your college surgeries, Victoria. And he knew I was carrying Dante's child before he died. He made me the sole trustee of those shares until my child turned eighteen."
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Victoria’s mouth fell open in silent horror.
"I brought the certified trust documents from Zurich to file with the probate court today," I added. "You don't own the docks, Victoria. My son does. And as his sole legal guardian, I cast the votes."
