Fall of the Underboss

Lorenzo Moretti’s “rabid dog” was still echoing through the hall. On the floor, the shattered blue-and-white porcelain from the mysterious East was painfully glaring.

“Apologize to Sophia.” Lorenzo patted the woman’s back, his voice low and cold.

I looked at him, mockery flickering in my eyes.

Five years ago, when the Bernardi family expanded south, they chose the Moretti family as their pawn.

Lorenzo married me as part of that alliance, and only then was he promoted to underboss of the Moretti family.

Everything he had—status, money, and this estate—came from me.

However, he had clearly forgotten how he had climbed here.

Now he was eager to grind my dignity underfoot, desperate to hide the fact that he rose through his wife.

“I won’t apologize.”

I lifted my chin and said with a flat tone, carrying the natural arrogance of a Bernardi heiress.

Lorenzo’s expression darkened instantly.

He hated this look. It reminded him, every time, that aside from the don, there was still me above him.

“This is Moretti territory!”

He clenched his teeth like an enraged lion. “Elena, don’t forget who you are. You’re just the underboss’s wife now!”

“So you do remember you’re only an underboss?” I sneered. “If my father finds out you’re using his daughter’s money to keep a mistress, how long do you think you’ll last?”

I clearly hit the sore spot. Panic flashed through his eyes, then sank into something darker.

“Fine. Very well.” He sneered. “Don Moretti will be attending tonight’s banquet. I’ll have Sophia sit at the main table right next to you and let him see how I keep women in line.”

He’d lost his mind.

In a rigid, hierarchical mafia family, putting a mistress at the main table was a direct provocation to the don and an outright insult to the family’s honor. Desperate to assert his authority, he had already lost all rational judgment.

I said nothing, though. Instead, I turned and went back to my room.

Since he wanted to seek death, I didn’t mind sending him off.

Back in my bedroom, I took out a dusty satellite phone.

“Carlo,” I said, looking out the window. “Notify Interpol on the shipment that Lorenzo is personally responsible for coming at 10 p.m. tonight.”

“Principessa, that shipment accounts for half of the Moretti family’s profits this year. If something goes wrong, Don Moretti won’t spare the one in charge.”

“That’s what I want.” My voice was cold. “Also, prepare to abandon the Moretti family.”

I ended the call and fixed my makeup.

The door opened, and Sophia walked in.

“Madam.” She said, idly toying with my pearl necklace, “Lorenzo said the don will announce tonight that he’s taking over more business. When that happens, I’ll get my share too.”

I laughed softly, full of disdain, and pulled a document from the drawer, slapping it into her hands.

“Divorce papers.”

I said calmly, “Have him sign it. Then this estate and that trash of a man will both be yours.”

Sophia clutched the papers, greed nearly spilling from her eyes. She wanted to be the lady of this place so badly.

Lorenzo’s impatient shout echoed from downstairs. “Elena! Do I need to come get you myself?”

Sophia hurried to hide the agreement, but I stepped forward and stopped her.

Unhurried, I reached out and drew the pearl necklace back from her stiff fingers, bead by bead.

Then I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I trust you’ll make the right choice.”