Elena Vitiello POV:
The morning sun cut through the morning mist, flooding my private office on the fortieth floor of the Manhattan high-rise.
The news of my engagement to the Underboss had swept through the New York underworld like a hurricane overnight. The appearance of the pigeon-blood ruby had shattered the delicate power balance of the Five Families.
I stood by the window, wearing a perfectly tailored white power suit.
On my desk, the heavy black encrypted phone began to blink with a frantic red light, shattering the morning silence.
I walked over and hit the speaker button.
"Mrs. Moretti," the panicked voice of my port manager echoed in the room. "We have a massive problem. The European shipping route carrying the high-grade medical tech? Customs just locked down the entire dock. They seized the cargo."
My brow furrowed. I immediately pulled up the encrypted shipping manifests on my monitor. The seizure order wasn't a random federal sweep. It had an internal New York Outfit authorization code attached to the tip-off.
My mind raced, quickly connecting the dots. This wasn't an external enemy. This was the New York Elder Council.
Those conservative, old-blooded Italian men hated me. To them, I was just a discarded toy from Chicago. They believed I was completely unworthy of wearing the ruby ring and sitting on the throne beside Dante.
They had sabotaged my route to test me. They wanted to force me to run crying to Dante to fix my mess. If I did, they would brand me a weak figurehead and strip me of any real operational power.
I had seen too many mafia wives trapped in gilded cages, crying over their lack of agency. I wasn't going to be one of them.
I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Don't panic. Hold the dock workers back. I will handle it."
I cut the line.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Dante’s personal bodyguard stepped inside, looking concerned. "Ma'am, should I patch you through to the Boss? He can clear Customs with one phone call."
I turned my head and pinned the guard with a look so authoritative he immediately stopped walking.
"No," I commanded, my voice like cracking ice. "Do not disturb Dante. This is my route."
The guard hesitated, but the sheer pressure in my eyes made him bow his head and step out, closing the door.
I didn't touch the intercom to Dante’s office. Instead, I picked up my cell phone and dialed Julian.
He answered on the second ring. "Mrs. Moretti. Early for a hostile takeover, isn't it?"
"Julian," I said, skipping the pleasantries. "Is your mole at the top of New York Customs still hungry?"
Julian let out a low chuckle. "For the right price, Wall Street opens any door."
"Good," I snapped. "You have three hours. I want my cargo released, and I want the name and badge number of the rat who tipped them off."
Julian’s tone instantly sharpened, recognizing the lethal edge in my voice. "Consider it done."
I hung up the phone. I walked to the wall safe hidden behind a painting. I spun the dial, pulled the heavy steel door open, and took out the black microchip—the master key to the New York intelligence network.
I plugged the drive into my secure terminal. I pulled up the internal ledgers of the three loudest Elders on the council.
Rows of encrypted numbers cascaded down my screen. My eyes tracked the data like a hawk. I had spent years locked in a Chicago estate reading doctored books. I knew exactly how old men hid their stolen money.
Thirty minutes later, I found it. A massive, gaping hole of embezzled family funds funneled into an offshore shell company.
I hit print. The machine whirred, spitting out the damning evidence.
I gathered the warm papers and slid them into a black leather folder. I ran my fingers over the edge of the folder, a dangerous smile touching my lips. I was going to slaughter them at the council meeting this afternoon.
My cell phone buzzed on the desk.
I picked it up. It was an anonymous text message routed through a Chicago proxy server.
I read the words, and the temperature in my blood dropped to absolute zero.
"Sofia escaped. The hunt begins."
