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Chapter 6
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When Labor Became My Prison Chapter 11
Three years later. The Moretti headquarters in New York City, top floor office.I sat in the chair that once belonged to my father, a billion-dollar acquisition deal in front of me.My pen glided across the paper, signing my name.Alessia Moretti."Signora, we have news from Sicily," Luca said, entering the office. "Your father's vineyard had a record harvest this year.""Good," I said without looking up. "He should be enjoying his retirement."Outside my window, the New York skyline glittered in the setting sun.In three years, I had expanded the Moretti empire to heights it had never seen before.From New York to L.A., Chicago to Miami. Our influence was everywhere."Anything else, Luca?" I asked."The report you asked for," he said, handing me a file. "About Chicago."I took it.A status report on Vittorio Falcone.After our last meeting three years ago, he had simply vanished.He was living in a tenement in the South Side of Chicago. Surviving on welfare checks.He drank every day.
When Labor Became My Prison Chapter 10
In just three months, Vittorio sold off everything. The estate, the casinos, the docks, even the family jewels.Most of the money went to pay off debts.With what was left, he did something that surprised me.He bought a cemetery plot. Right next to "mine.""Papa, I want that number," I said."What number?""My old cell phone number. The one Vittorio thinks is dead."My father frowned. "Why?""I want to hear what he has to say."My father handed me an old phone.The screen showed 47 missed calls.All from Vittorio. And dozens of voicemails.I played the first one.Vittorio’s voice, raw and broken, filled the room."Alessia... I know you can't hear this, but I have to say it.""I know the truth. About Ornella, about the baby. About what she did to you.""It was my fault. I killed you."I listened, my face a mask.The second message."I got rid of Ornella. And her bastard.""Elena's locked away, too. But none of it brings you back."The third."I sold everything. The estate, the business
When Labor Became My Prison Chapter 9
Vittorio summoned his most trusted men that night."I want to know everything about the oxytocin," his voice was ice. "Every single detail.""Don, we already confirmed Ms. Ornella picked it up—""I want more," Vittorio cut him off. "Why did she want it? Who did she talk to? I want to know her every move."Three days later.Luca walked into my room with a satisfied smile."Signora, we have all the proof you wanted."He placed a file in front of me.The first photo made my blood run cold.Ornella in a motel room with a man who wasn't Vittorio.Her body was pressed against his, their lips locked.The time stamp on the photo: two months pregnant."Who's the man?" I asked."Roberto Santini. Second-in-command of the East Side crew," Luca answered. "A sworn enemy of the Falcones."I flipped the page.A DNA report.Subject: Son of Ornella Ricci.Alleged Father: Vittorio Falcone.Probability of Paternity: 0%.I laughed coldly. The so-called "heir" was the enemy's bastard."Has Vittorio seen thi
When Labor Became My Prison Chapter 8
I sat in the center of my father's war room on the Sicilian estate.A detailed map of Chicago hung on the wall, covered in small red flags.Each flag marked a Falcone family vulnerability."First shipment has been intercepted," Luca reported. "Thirty million in arms. Our guys 'anonymously' tipped off the Coast Guard on the high seas."I nodded, drawing an 'X' over a mark on the map."And the casinos?""The IRS hit three of their biggest fronts this morning," another man reported. "Took the books, everything. Vittorio's looking at a fifty-million-dollar loss. Easy."Another 'X'."The docks?""The East and South side ports have new owners. Our partners were happy to take over the business."I kept drawing X's on the map.One month.The Falcone empire, built over decades, was crumbling piece by piece."How's Vittorio holding up?" I asked.Luca pulled up a monitor.On the screen, Vittorio sat in his office, buried under a mountain of paperwork.He looked like hell. Gaunt, with deep, dark c
When Labor Became My Prison Chapter 7
The small chapel on the Falcone estate. Candles flickered, casting long, dancing shadows.Vittorio carried the small, shrouded coffin himself. He placed it before the altar.He waved everyone away."Don, you need to rest—" one of his men started."Out," Vittorio’s voice was ice. "All of you. Out."The doors closed, leaving him alone with the coffin.I watched it all through a hidden camera.Vittorio knelt before the coffin, perfectly still.Hours passed. The sky outside grew dark. He didn't move."What's he doing?" my father asked from behind me."His performance," I answered, my voice flat.The next day, and the day after that, Vittorio was still there.No food. No water. He didn't even stand up.His suit was a wrinkled mess. His face was covered in stubble, his eyes sunken.On the third night, Ornella finally showed up.She was holding the baby, dressed in an elegant black mourning dress.The hypocrisy of it all."Vittorio?" she called softly.Vittorio didn't turn around."You haven'
When Labor Became My Prison Chapter 6
The Moretti estate, Sicily.I sat in my father’s study, staring at a bank of monitors.The screens showed every corner of that private hospital in Chicago."The body is in the morgue," Luca reported from behind me. "Our man on the inside made sure there are no loose ends."I nodded, my eyes glued to the screens.The third monitor showed the party on the top floor.Vittorio stood there in a tailored suit, holding the baby.Ornella's son. The heir.Falcone family members crowded them, faces beaming.The clinking of champagne glasses, the sound of laughter, the endless congratulations."Congratulations, Don Vittorio!""The future of the family!""Marco would be so proud if he could see this!"I watched it all in silence.No one mentioned me. No one even asked where I was.It was like I never existed."The bastards," Luca spat. "While you were fighting for your life, they're popping champagne."I wonder, Vittorio. Will you still be celebrating when you find out I'm dead?On the monitor, Vi
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