Burned Out Of The Moretti Name Novels & Stories

“The sun sets in Sicily, but it never sets on the Moretti-Vane name. I am the shadow that protects the light. The Audit is eternal. The debt is my strength.” I closed the book with a firm, decisive thud. Outside, the city of New York hummed with the energy of eight million souls, all of them moving within the lines I had drawn. The Moretti-Vane empire was no longer a story of survival. It was the atmosphere. It was the gravity. It was the infinite horizon. I reached for the intercom. "Marco. Prepare the briefing for the Jimenez skim. We have a debt to reinvest."

“But I don’t like my things being tainted by garbage.” I gestured around the room. “Especially when it’s been touched by trash.” “Clear everyone out.” As Carmela and Fiona watched in horror, I picked up a lighter. “And burn it all down.” I flicked the lighter and tossed it onto a table piled high with cash and spilled alcohol. Flames erupted instantly. Carmela was shaking with rage. “You’re insane! A complete lunatic! This is Moretti property!” “Not anymore.” I dusted my hands off. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Moretti? Upset? Too bad. You don’t even have the right to be.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” “Do you know everyone is worried sick?” I looked at him. His jaw was dark with stubble, his eyes bloodshot, and his shirt collar wrinkled. The untouchable Don Moretti looked as if he had walked out of a lost war. I felt nothing. “Mr. Moretti, I’ve revoked every authorization tied to the Vale family.” “My phone, my atelier, and my client files no longer concern you.” “As for us, we never registered a marriage.”

His thumb pressed firmly against the exposed skin of my spine, a hidden, grounding touch that sent a jolt of ice-cold resolve through my veins. Look them in the eye and thank them for the warmth. I raised my chin, my gaze locking onto Silas's. "I remember the fire quite well, Mr. Genovese," I said, my voice steady and cold, echoing through the silent circle. "It taught me that anything that can be burned wasn't worth keeping. And it taught me that the Moretti family is the only thing in this city that survives the heat." A ripple of hushed gasps moved through the onlookers. Silas’s thin, blue lips twitched—a ghost of a smile or a snarl, I couldn't tell.

The grief instantly morphed into a cold, calculated hunger for total annihilation. "I am going to take down everything that belongs to him," Moretti whispered, the threat vibrating with lethal promise. "Every territory. Every dollar. Every single person he smiles at. I will burn the De Luca empire to the ground and make him watch it ash by ash, before I personally rip his heart out."

I caught my boyfriend in bed with two women. That same night, I walked into Milan's most exclusive club and drank whiskey for the first time. The next morning, I woke up with a marriage certificate on my floor. My husband? Matteo Moretti. One of Italy's four identical billionaire brothers. When I arrived at their palazzo, four gorgeous, terrifying men stood before me. Same face. Same cold eyes. Same cruel mouths. "Drag this lying girl out," their father ordered. Then one brother stepped forward, his dark gaze burning slowly down my body. "You don't remember me, sweetheart?" His voice dropped low enough to melt bone. "Because I remember every sound you made." They called

I'd made a deal with my childhood friend Damian to apply to Southern State University together. The day before the application deadline, he secretly changed my application to a community college. An hour earlier, my campus anonymous wall had received a submission— "I changed my childhood friend's college application to a community college." "She's too outstanding. So outstanding that everyone around her feels inferior. I did this to teach her some humility." "Besides, I know she can't leave me. So we'll still be in the same city, and I'll help her fix these flaws." After tracing the IP of that anonymous post, I realized the person whose college application had been changed was me. I d

The sarcasm in his tone just showed how much he wasn't intimidated by Mr Morreti, despite his attempts to threaten him. Mr. Moretti's expression hardened, a glintt of warning in his eyes. "It seems to me like you have no idea what I'm capable of," he stated sharply. It was evident that while Josh may have been aware of Mr. Moretti's identity, he remained ignorant of the depths of his power and ruthlessness, which encouraged him to speak so boldly.

Who the hell was stupid enough to use the Moretti name to do illegal dealings? I looked at Leonardo intently. Dread set in his eyes. He seemed to have understood that we were having an entirely different conversation than the one we seemed to be having. "Something just came up, Soren. I need to go. I'll get in touch with you soon," I said and then cut the call. "Samuelson was right. The Morettis are not involved in this. They don't even use the gallery to launder money anymore," I clarified. "They haven't in thirteen years. I believe they stopped after Alaric's death."

He traced it for a moment, then pulled it off. My eyes went wide. The skin underneath was burned and scarred. I quickly turned away—I couldn’t bring myself to stare. I glanced over at Violet. She had shut her eyes, not wanting to see it either. “This,” Ronan said, gesturing to his face, “is what the Moretti family did to me. They slaughtered my family like animals. And me? Marco Moretti set me on fire. He burned my face, my body—left me for dead.” He laughed bitterly, and the sound echoed around us, cold and unsettling.