Chapter 9 - The Return to the Throne
The black Maybach sliced through the downtown traffic, heading south toward the Financial District as twilight began to paint the Manhattan skyline in shades of bruised purple and gold.
Inside the backseat, the relaxed casual atmosphere of the morning had vanished completely. Aleandro had removed his navy blue sweater, replacing it with a sharp, custom-tailored black suit jacket and a dark silk tie. The casual architect was gone; the ruthless mafia boss had returned to his throne.
Yet something fundamental had shifted.
Marco sat beside him, reviewing financial manifests on his tablet, but every few moments, his eyes flicked toward Aleandro.
“Solanzio is waiting in the private lounge on the 40th floor,” Marco said quietly. “He thinks he has leverage because of the downtown dock dispute. He doesn't know about the tax audits we filed this morning.”
“He won't need to know about the audits,” Aleandro said, his voice cold, steady, and razor-sharp as he stared out the tinted window at the passing lights of Broadway. “By the time he finishes his first glass of whiskey, he’ll realize he doesn't own a single shipping container left in this city.”
Marco gave a thin, approving smile. “And the mother? Maria and Sophia?”
“They stay at the estate,” Aleandro ordered without hesitation. “Move them from the servants' quarters to the east wing guest suite. Double their security detail. If a stray leaf falls near them without my permission, I want to know about it within ten seconds.”
Marco’s pen paused. He looked at Aleandro, seeing the absolute, unyielding protection in his eyes. For twelve years, Marco had believed Aleandro Moretti was a machine made of ice and ledgers. Today, he realized he had been wrong.
Aleandro wasn't a machine. He was a volcano that had finally remembered how to erupt.
“Done,” Marco said softly.
May you like
The car glided into the underground parking garage of Moretti Tower, stopping precisely in front of the private elevator lobby. Two armed guards held the doors open as Aleandro stepped out, his tall, imposing frame commanding the space before he even spoke a word.
He didn't look back. He didn't hesitate. He walked into the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and let the steel doors close around him like armor.
