Chapter 3

The Moretti Family Council meeting began.

At the long table, Vera sat at the center, calm and confident.

Dressed in black, the widows around her whispered to each other, certain they had already won.

A phone sat on a stand above the table, its red camera light glowing. They were already livestreaming.

"She'll give in." Vera sat straight and glanced at Liana and Lucia. "Don Lorenzo's not here. She can't hold up the Family's name on her own.

"As long as she wants to keep her acting authority, she'll have to bow to us in front of the Council."

That was what I walked into.

I took the seat across from Vera.

The phone camera on Vera's side of the table shifted slightly, pointing directly at me.

I smiled.

"I admit the school's rules made many mothers feel trapped.

"Pickups require notice. So do address changes. Family visits need approval.

"I was so focused on protecting the children that I failed to explain why those rules were necessary."

The widows exchanged glances.

Vera smirked. She swept her gaze around the room, unable to hide her triumph.

It was written all over her face. See? Every choice Isabella makes is exactly where I want it.

Someone started clapping. Others quickly joined in.

Excited whispers spread through the room.

I waited for them to settle down.

"I'll respect your decision," I continued. "St. Anna Academy will close permanently once every child has been safely transferred.

"Anyone who wants a regular school can arrange it through the Council.

"Anyone who wants something similar can choose Belmont Academy, as Vera suggested."

Before I finished, the widows erupted in cheers.

Vera turned the camera on herself, raised both hands over her head, and clapped in victory.

The room exploded with applause. A row of women in black rose on the right side of the table. Through the phone camera, it would all be a blur of movement and hands clapping until they turned red.

"One more thing." Vera quickly moved to what she really wanted. "Now that the school's closing, every family should get that other $10,000 back."

She planted both hands on the table and stared at me.

More than twenty pairs of eyes turned my way.

The room fell silent. Only the red light on Vera's phone kept blinking.

"The $20,000 your husbands earned each month was payment for their missions," I said, spacing out every word. "When a member dies, that payment ends. Article 17 of the Family charter makes that clear."

I pulled several documents from my folder and slid them toward the Council.

"The $10,000 you receive now is a survivor's stipend under Article 19.

"It goes directly into your accounts every month. Not a single dollar passes through my hands."

I opened another document and submitted both to the Council at the same time.

On the left were monthly transfer records to the widows, each marked "Stipend - Article 19."

The other showed payments from my personal trust to St. Anna: teacher salaries, buses, security, food, and repairs.

"Similar numbers don't make them the same fund."

Vera stared at the documents.

"That's impossible." Her voice rose. "The school inflated its costs! The guards are already on the payroll. Those walls were built seven years ago.

"You counted the same people twice. Of course you can make the books balance!"

"Matteo."

I cut her off and let Matteo explain.

Matteo stood and opened a box of files.

"These are St. Anna Academy's financial records from the last five years.

"Teacher contracts, security logs, vehicle maintenance records, food invoices. Every original is here."

I turned to the Council. "Audit them yourselves. Bring in an outside firm if you want. I won't interfere."

Across from me, the widows went pale.

"One more thing." I stood. "That $10,000 was never money set aside for any one child. It was the actual per-child cost of the entire protection system: walls, gates, guards, emergency plans, and intelligence checks.

"With the school closed, my personal trust stops paying for it."

I paused.

"So there was never a fund that could hand the widows an extra $10,000. There never was."

This time, the silence was absolute.

The livestream was still running. Comments flew across the screen, but no one cared anymore.

"Then what happens to us?" someone shouted. "Where's the money?"

"If the school's closed, where does my child go?"

"You really expect me to believe she paid for all this out of her own pocket? I don't buy that she's some kind of saint."

Vincent Romano, the Council chairman, slammed his hand on the table.

"The school is no longer the priority. The leaks and public scandal have frozen our port partnership. We're already calculating the losses.

"The Council will also investigate everyone who leaked school records, security schedules, or vehicle information."

He glared at the widows. "Article 34. Anyone responsible for a major security breach loses Family membership.

"Once you're out, you pay for your own security, and your children lose any extra protection."

The lost partnerships had already cut into the Family's revenue.

Forget the stipends being cut. Anyone who had endangered that income would be thrown out of the Family entirely.

The women had come demanding money. Now they were facing expulsion as traitors.

Lucia's lips went white.

Someone grabbed Vera's arm. "Where's the money? You said we'd get it once the school closed."

Another woman spoke with a trembling voice. "An investigation? Did you know this would happen? Did you trick us into getting ourselves kicked out?"

Vera jerked her arm free and slammed the livestreaming phone facedown.

Her face went blank for a moment. Then she pointed at me. "She's trying to scare you.

"When Lorenzo comes back, he'll never let his wife bully the families of his dead brothers."

I leaned back and watched them turn on each other.

Their little alliance was falling apart.

This time, only half the room backed her.