Chapter 11 - SHADOWS FROM THE PAST
Six months of peace in the Moretti estate felt almost too fragile to last.
The headlines about the Bennett trial had long since faded from the front pages, replaced by routine financial news and corporate restructuring.
Dante had successfully transitioned eighty percent of his syndicate’s holdings into legitimate medical technology firms, honoring my father’s legacy with every venture.
Yet, deep down, I knew the underworld never truly forgets a king who steps down.
It was late Tuesday evening.
Dante was away in New York handling final board approvals for the new Carter-Moretti Medical Foundation.
I sat at the mahogany dining table, reviewing shipment logs for hospital equipment deliveries, when a sharp knock echoed through the front foyer.
Not the grand double doors.
The side service entrance.
I frowned, checking my watch. 11:42 PM.
Our domestic staff had already retired for the night.
I walked down the long corridor, the sound of my bare feet echoing softly against the marble tiles.
Another knock.
Louder this time.
I reached the heavy oak service door and flipped the brass security lock.
“Who is it?” I called out, keeping the chain latch engaged.
No voice answered.
Instead, a thick white envelope slid underneath the gap of the door.
I knelt down, my heart suddenly accelerating, and pulled the envelope toward me.
My name was written across the front in jagged, block capital letters:
*ELENA CARTER.*
I unlatched the chain and swung the door open wide.
The courtyard was completely empty.
Only the cool Chicago wind rustled through the autumn oak trees outside.
I slammed the door shut, double-locked it, and tore the envelope open.
Inside was a single polaroid photograph and a handwritten note.
The photo showed my mother sitting in her garden at the Lake Geneva estate—taken from a high angle, through a long-range telescopic lens.
Across her chest in the photo, someone had drawn a bold red *X*.
My breath caught in my throat.
I looked down at the note.
*“The king thinks he can walk away from the table just because he bought a bride. Tell Dante Moretti that his debt is past due. We’ll be collecting in forty-eight hours.”*
No signature.
Just a small, jagged emblem stamped in black ink at the bottom corner—a coiled viper.
The Moretti syndicate’s oldest, most ruthless rival faction: The Viper Syndicate.
May you like
They hadn't died out with Richard Bennett.
They had been waiting for Dante to drop his guard.
