Chapter 7 - Harland's Revenge
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By nightfall, Charles Harland was gone, his bags thrown hastily into the trunk of a waiting taxi by Luca’s armed guards. But a man like Harland did not leave a position of power quietly. He was petty, vindictive, and deeply humiliated.
As the taxi drove past the iron gates of the Ferraro estate, Harland pulled out a burner phone. He didn’t call a recruiter. He didn’t call a friend.
He called Dominic Moretti.
The Moretti family was the second-largest syndicate in New York, and they had spent the last five years bleeding territory to Luca Ferraro. They were desperate for a weakness, an entry point into Luca’s impenetrable fortress.
“Mr. Moretti,” Harland sneered into the phone as the taxi sped toward the city. “I have information you might find incredibly valuable. The security rotation schedules for the Ferraro compound. And... I know what’s currently distracting the boss.”
Meanwhile, inside the carriage house, peace had finally settled.
Elena was asleep, an IV drip steadily pumping antibiotics into her system. Mrs. Bell, the kindly head cook, had taken over watching Nora, who was currently asleep on the small sofa, clutching a teddy bear Luca had quietly ordered his head of security to purchase.
Luca sat in the shadows of the small bedroom, watching Elena breathe.
His underboss, Matteo, stepped quietly into the room, leaning against the doorframe.
“The perimeter is secure, Boss,” Matteo whispered, though his eyes lingered on the sleeping maid with clear confusion. “The Washington delegates are asking for a follow-up call. And the capos are wondering why you haven't summoned them to the main house yet.”
“Tell the delegates they have my terms. I will not repeat them,” Luca replied without looking away from Elena. “And tell the capos I am busy.”
Matteo frowned. “Luca... with respect. You fired the estate manager over a maid. Now you’re sitting vigil in the carriage house. The men are going to talk. In our world, a sudden soft spot is a liability.”
“I am perfectly aware of how our world works, Matteo,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a freezing whisper. He finally turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto his underboss. “If anyone in my organization speaks a single disrespectful word about this woman or her child, cut out their tongue and leave it on my desk. Is that understood?”
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Matteo swallowed hard, recognizing the lethal devotion in his boss's eyes. This wasn't a fleeting moment of pity. Luca had found something to protect.
“Crystal clear, Boss,” Matteo nodded, stepping back into the shadows.
