Chapter 4 - The Fortress at Mercy General
-4-
Back at Mercy General Hospital, room 412 had been transformed into an impenetrable fortress.
When Elena returned from the hospital cafeteria carrying a thermos of black coffee and a bag of pastries, she found two private security guards standing outside the door—not Lucian’s men, but heavily armed operatives wearing plain dark suits bearing the discreet insignia of Sterling & Vance’s private protection division.
“Credentials?” the lead guard asked, his hand resting casually near his holster.
“It’s me, Officer,” Elena sighed, lifting her travel mug. “And unless you want my sister to personally sue your firm into bankruptcy, I suggest you let me pass with my breakfast.”
The guard checked her face against his digital tablet, nodded, and tapped the electronic lock. The heavy wooden door clicked open.
Inside, the room was warm and quiet. I was sitting propped up against the pillows, nursing Nico, who was wrapped tightly in a pale blue blanket. His tiny chest rose and fell in a steady, peaceful rhythm.
“How are the guards?” I asked softly without looking up from my son.
“Professional, terrifying, and thoroughly vetted by Marcus Vance himself,” Elena said, setting the pastries on the bedside table and pulling up a chair. “They won't let a fly into this room unless it has a federal judge’s signature.”
“Good,” I murmured, gently stroking Nico’s dark, fine hair. “Lucian hasn't tried to call?”
“His phone has been ringing off the hook, but I forwarded all his incoming calls to a burner number that just plays a recording of a federal grand jury subpoena,” Elena grinned wickedly, unwrapping a muffin. “You should have seen the look on his face when he realized you didn't just walk out—you locked him out of his own vault.”
I smiled, though there was no joy in it—only a cold, hollow satisfaction.
“Lucian built his entire life on the assumption that fear equals loyalty,” I said, looking out the window where the morning sun was finally beginning to burn through the freezing New York mist. “He thought that by isolating me in that penthouse, surrounding me with guards, and keeping me in the dark about his syndicate business, he was keeping me safe. He didn't realize he was training me.”
“Training you for what?”
“To take over,” I said simply.
Elena stopped chewing, her muffin halfway to her mouth. She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. “Serena... what are you talking about? You filed for divorce and exposed his ledgers. You’re not trying to take over the Moretti syndicate?”
“Not the criminal part,” I replied calmly. “My father left behind more than just encrypted files on Lucian’s illegal operations. He left behind a complete map of every politician, judge, and police captain on the Moretti payroll. Lucian thinks he owns New York because he writes checks to the right people. But those checks were written through shell companies registered under my grandfather’s real estate trust.”
Elena’s jaw dropped. “Grandpa Arthur’s trust? The one from the old Connecticut estate?”
“Exactly,” I said, looking down at Nico. “Every single bribe, payoff, and political favor Lucian has distributed for the past decade legally flows through a real estate holding company that my father bequeathed exclusively to me on his deathbed. Lucian was never the master of the Moretti empire, Elena. He was just the manager. I am the landlord.”
Before Elena could process the sheer, terrifying magnitude of what I had just said, a sharp, urgent knock echoed at the door.
The security slot slid open instantly, and the lead guard’s voice rang out through the intercom:
“Mrs. Moretti. You have an unexpected visitor in the lobby. She insists she’s family.”
May you like
“Who is it?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Bianca Romano just landed at Teterboro on a private flight from Europe,” the guard reported flatly. “And she’s currently walking through the front doors of Mercy General.”
