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The call came just after midnight.
Isabella Lorenzo… now Moretti by marriage, was busy pouring herself a well earned glass of wine after another long day tolerating her new family. As she eased herself gently into the couch, her phone lit up and started vibrating. “Should have put you on DND” she muttered in annoyance as she reached for the phone. It was an nknown number, and she didn't usually fancy answering unknown numbers. Her instincts however kept pushing, and she eventually took the call. “Isabella Moretti?” a deep voice asked. She paused. Nobody had called her by her maiden name in the last three months since she got married. “Yes. Who is this?” There was a small pause before the caller finally spoke again. “Your father has been arrested, and the council has summoned a trial tonight. Your immediate attendance is required, good day.” The line went dead before she could even ask a question. How could this be possible, what could they possibly have against her father. She had to talk to Luca, surely there should be something he can do. She found him in his library, focused on a bunch of books and documents with a serious look on his face. He seemed really busy, and she felt bad that she had to disturb him, but she had no choice. “Luca,” she gasped, “my father’s been taken, they said the council’s trying him tonight.” He paused, looked up very slowly like her words didn't quite register to him, but he replied all the same. “I know.” Isabella was stunned. “You knew?” she asked, her voice gradually rising. “And you didn’t even bother to tell me?” Luca stood up slowly, gently closed the document folder he'd been holding after placing an envelope in it. He went to stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the gold cuffs on his suit. “It wasn’t my place.” “Wasn’t your…” She choked at the words, then managed to try again. “Luca, that’s my father.” “Your father is a Don Isabella, and he has been arrested by the Internal Mafia Council… It isn't a personal affair, it's simply protocol.” She stared at him in shock. “Arent you suppose to protect him from something like this?” She asked sobbing. “Isnt it part of the wedding agreement?” Luca had no time to respond before his father, Don Nico Moretti walked in. He looked excited, followed by his two heavily armed guards. He ignored the sobbing Isabella, and spoke directly to his son “Luca, get ready immediately, the council meets tonight and we have been summoned.” Luca nodded. “Understood Papa.” Isabella stepped forward. “I’m coming too.” Don Nico’s finally turned to her, as if seeing her for the very first time. “This is a Council matter, it's not a show for women.” “He’s my father,” she snapped. “And I received a summon also.” A smirk appeared on Don Nico’s face. “Very well signora, just make sure you remember where your loyalty lies.” She looked at Luca, but he had turned away, and she only nodded weakly to Nico. There was no need to say anything else… but inside, her heart was pounding like a warning drum. … The Council chamber was filled by members of all the notable Mafia families in New York. The twelve elders who governed the underworld sat behind their judgment table, dressed in black with a stone cold look on their terrible faces. She hated them. A few minutes after silence has been ordered, Don Antonio Lorenzo was dragged into the hall under the watch of heavy security. Isabella's eyes watered at the sight of him… he looked broken and battered, bleeding slightly, but with defiance still burning in his eyes. She took a step forward without thinking, and she was stopped immediately by Luca’s outstretched hand. When she looked at him, he wasn't even looking at her, he was more focused on the spectacle in front of him. The head council elder’s voice suddenly rang through. “Don Antonio Lorenzo,” he began, “You have been accused of high treason against this council, and against the Mafia Confederation. What say you?” Her father straightened himself proudly, ignoring his chains and raising his voice. “I deny it all, every single word of it.” “Evidence has been submitted Don Lorenzo,” another elder cut in, pushing forward a bunch of documents in a file. “Transactions, surveillance, letters, communications with known federal contacts, and many more. They have all been traced back to your seal and signature.” Antonio’s face turned red in anger. “Forgeries and lies. Someone wants me gone, and has go to great lengths to plant those lies.” A councilman came forward holding a sealed envelope, and envelope that caught Isbwlla’s eyes. She seen it somewhere before… yes! The envelope Luca pushed into the document earlier that day… she'd seen him. “This,” began the councilman. “Was submitted anonymously earlier today, and sources have confirmed the information it carries to be true. It supports the Moretti investigations.” Isabella froze at the mention of the Morettis. Her heart thudded violently, and she almost passed out. No… it couldn't be. “Moretti you bloody traitor,” her father hissed in disgust. “You forged lies on my records and sent them to the council?” Isabella looked at Luca again, trembling as the councilman began to tear the envelope open. He still didn't look at her, rather he was coldly focused on the trial. Inside the envelope were photographs, signatures, receipts of wire transfers… things that only someone with deep access to her family’s inner sanctum could have acquired. Isabella's heart crumbled with every one of those evidence they displayed, every lie they told against her father. She looked at all the files displayed by the council and trembled violently… They were the same exact files and documents Luca had been so focused on, she could remember them clearly now. She had thought they were additional work he brought home from his office, not knowing that it was a noose hanging around her father's neck. Then the final blow came as a verdict was immediately announced. “In accordance with the Old Code,” the Council elder said, “Don Antonio Lorenzo is hereby sentenced…” “No,” Isabella whispered. “...to death by hanging.” The gavel struck like a gunshot. She reached for Luca, dazed and unable to believe the nightmare happening before her. “Tell me this isn’t real Luca, tell me you didn't do this to my family.” “I’m sorry, Isabella.” She watched as they dragged her father away, screaming, kicking, and cursing furiously. She couldn’t even move… couldn't breathe. … Two trucks left the Moretti compound that night, filled with armed men and headed for the Lorenzo estate, far from the council's knowledge. The assassins stormed the estate in the darkness, and began executing all the Lorenzo lieutenants one after the other. Isabella's brothers, cousins, and even her family's household staffs were all wiped out, and the estate set ablaze. One of her cousin, Gerald Bastoni, managed a panicked call from where he lay hidden. “Bella, they're killing everybody… I… It's a massacre. Moretti soldiers… They're…” He was cut off by a succession of gunfire and screams. The line went dead, and Isabella dropped the phone in shock. In her hand was a crumpled envelope she had pulled from Luca’s desk after they returned from the trial… inside was a copy of a letter, a single sheet. The official death warrant of her father… Signed by Luca Moretti. Her husband.The call came just after midnight.It rang up through the sleeping house like a bell in an empty church, the old black telephone on her father's desk, three long rings and a pause. On the balcony, Luca's hand tightened around hers. Under the bare oaks the lantern guttered, and the silver urn lay warm in her lap."Let it ring," Luca said quietly, with his thumb moving over her knuckles. "Whoever it is can wait until morning.""No one calls that line for good news," Isabella answered, rising and folding the blanket over the arm of her chair. She smiled down at him, and her eyes were calm. "Go and check on Matteo, Luca. I heard him turn in his sleep a minute ago.""You did not hear anything.""A mother always hears." She bent and kissed his forehead. "Go."He studied her face for a long moment in the lantern light, and the corner of his mouth lifted. Then he stood, kissed her once on the mouth, and went in through the glass doors with his bare feet soft on the boards. She listened to him
Matteo let go of the chair on a gray Tuesday afternoon, and nobody in the study noticed until he was halfway across the floor.Isabella sat behind the wide oak desk with a quarterly report open under her pen, frowning at a column of figures. Across the room, Luca stood at the window with a telephone pressed to his ear, listening to a Marseille importer explain why a shipment was late. The study had been rebuilt in the spring, with new glass, a floor of honey-colored oak, and a plain wooden table where the cracked one had stood. Her father's portrait hung beside the desk with a small gold stag pinned to its frame."No, Henri, I do not want a better excuse," Luca said, turning the silver bracelet on his wrist, his back to the room, "I want those crates on the Genoa quay by Thursday.""Bella," Gerald whispered from the rug, a wooden block frozen in his fist and his thin face gone still, "look at your son."She looked up. Her pen slid out of her fingers.Matteo stood in the middle of the
The beam was gone.Isabella saw it the moment she stepped through the doors of the Council chamber, and her stride faltered on the black marble. For three years that wooden post with its iron ring had stood in every nightmare she had. Now the platform at the end of the long room was bare and freshly scrubbed, with two tall chairs of dark carved wood set side by side where the gallows had been. Only four small holes in the stone showed where the iron had once been bolted down."I had it torn out on Tuesday," Don Aldo Ferrante said quietly, leaning on his silver cane at the foot of the platform. "Four men and a crowbar, and I stood and watched every nail come out. I thought you should not have to walk past it.""Thank you, Don Aldo," Isabella whispered, with her throat tight.Snow drifted down through the stained glass skylight and melted before it reached the floor. Every family in New York had come. They filled the benches along both walls in black coats and black hats, and a narrow g
The sacristy smelled of candle wax and old wool, and five men were waiting in it.Isabella stopped on the threshold with Luca at her shoulder and Matteo still asleep against his chest. A tall young man in a cream linen suit lounged against the vestment cupboard with his arms folded, as comfortable as if the chapel belonged to him. His black hair was oiled back from a handsome, sulky face, and a signet ring glittered on his hand. Beside him stood a heavy man in his sixties with Don Aldo's long nose, and behind them, stiff and silent in black overcoats, two of the old Council elders she had seen at the Summit."Signora Moretti," the young man said, with a smile that did not reach his eyes, "forgive us for interrupting your feast. I am Enzo Ferrante.""Don Aldo's grandson," Isabella answered, folding her bandaged hands in front of her, "and the man who owes my son's christening an apology.""I would not dream of spoiling a child's day." He pushed off the cupboard and bowed, with a shade
The chapel of San Felice stood at the top of a goat track, and by eleven o'clock the whole mountain smelled of roasting lamb.Isabella stood in the monastery cloister with her son in her arms, watching Rosa march across the courtyard like a general at the head of an army. Behind her came six novice monks carrying trays of stuffed artichokes, cannoli, fried rice balls, and a roast pig the size of a child. Two hundred guests had been invited, and Rosa had sworn on her mother's grave that every one of them would leave unable to walk."Not there, Brother, the long table!" Rosa bellowed, snapping her wooden spoon at a startled monk. "Do you want it to run away?""She has not slept in three days, signora," Tomas murmured, hurrying past with a crate of lemons on his shoulder, grinning like a boy at a fair. "She says a christening is harder than a war.""She is right, Tomas," Isabella answered, laughing, and she shifted Matteo against her shoulder.He wore a long white gown that Carla Rinaldi
Special Agent Reyes did not sit down, and Isabella did not offer her a chair.They stood facing each other in the shell of the great hall, with rain dripping through the ruined ceiling and plaster dust lying like snow across the marble. Luca moved a step closer to his wife's shoulder. Leone had gone very still by the window, with one thumb hooked into his belt."Elena Romano held an Italian passport for two years, Mrs. Moretti," Reyes said, sliding a photograph out of her coat and laying it on the edge of a broken table, her voice level and polite. "A widow, an art dealer, born in Palermo. The records say she died in a car accident before she ever opened her gallery.""Then she was a very unusual widow," Isabella answered quietly, looking down at her own face in the picture, with its black gown and its dark glossy hair."I read Inspector Leone's file on her." Reyes's sharp eyes did not leave Isabella's face. "I read it twice, and last Thursday it was withdrawn, pending correction. A g
Riccardo rushed in first when they arrived back at the mansion.Luca followed…slowly.A little too slowly.The strong and confident stride that defined him was gone, and his usual aura of dominance suddenly looked like a candle that was struggling to stay lit. Blood was still slowly flowing from hi
Luca had booked out the entire aircraft, making every other seat empty except for the two of them… and the men stationed discreetly behind the cockpit door.Isabella sat with her arms crossed, carrying a large frown on her face. She hadn’t spoken to him in over twenty minutes.Luca, who had been wa
The hotel room door clicked shut behind Isabella, locking out the hallway noise and the memory of the police station with it. She didn’t waste any time in kicking her heels aside, taking off her clothes, and heading straight into the bathroom. She needed water and silence, and she needed a moment w
Dante Romano was in his office, casually sipping red wine with a rare smile on his lips. The cigar he had just finished lay in a silver ash tray in front of him, letting out small wisps of smoke.Lucho Vestari, one of his most trusted enforcers, was standing on the other side of the office, watchin







