Chapter 4 - Shadows at the Gala Gates
Downstairs, the Christmas gala was reaching its crescendo. Laughter, clinking crystal, and the swell of a live jazz orchestra filled the grand ballroom, but beneath the surface, the atmosphere had shifted.
In the cigar lounge adjacent to the main hall, two men stood near the marble fireplace, watching the grand staircase with sharp, predatory eyes.
The first was Capo Vincent Rossi—a thick-set man in his late fifties with slicked-back gray hair, a pinstripe suit, and a reputation for brutal efficiency. Beside him stood Enzo Romano, Luca’s maternal uncle, an elderly man who held significant influence over the syndicate’s legitimate shipping businesses.
"Where did Luca go?" Vincent asked in a low growl, swirling the scotch in his glass. "He vanished forty minutes ago right after that maid created a scene near the stairs."
"He went to his private study," Enzo replied quietly, puffing on his Cuban cigar. "Marco sealed the upper corridor. Nobody is being allowed upstairs."
Vincent’s eyes narrowed into slits. "A maid? Since when does the head of the Romano family abandon two hundred high-profile guests because a house cleaner dropped a tray?"
"It wasn't just a maid, Vincent," a low voice spoke from the shadows near the doorway.
A young associate stepped forward, holding a tablet screen. "Our security feed caught a clear frame before Marco wiped the foyer server. The maid... her real name is Mara Bennett. She disappeared from Boston three years ago right after Matteo’s accident."
Vincent froze. The glass tumbler in his hand paused inches from his mouth. "Matteo’s woman? The one who was supposed to be in that car with him?"
"She wasn't in the car," the associate whispered. "And boss... she wasn't alone tonight. She had a kid with her. A three-year-old girl."
Enzo let out a sharp intake of breath, his cigar ash dropping onto his lapel. "A child? Matteo’s child?"
Vincent’s face transformed into an ugly mask of dark panic and lethal intent. Three years ago, Vincent had secretly accepted twenty million dollars from the rival Valenti family to plant the bomb beneath Matteo Romano’s engine block. Matteo had discovered Vincent’s embezzlement schemes, and his death had allowed Vincent to seize control of the lucrative Chicago port operations.
If Matteo’s daughter was alive—and if Luca verified her bloodline—the entire Romano estate trust, which held forty percent of the syndicate’s voting shares, would legally transfer to the child upon her adulthood, stripping Vincent of his power and exposing his past treason.
"If that kid has Matteo’s blood," Vincent hissed, leaning toward Enzo, "Luca will run a DNA test by morning. And if Mara Bennett talks about what Matteo told her before he died... we are both dead men by sunset."
"What do we do?" Enzo stammered, his old hands shaking. "Luca’s personal guard is guarding the East Wing! You can't attack the master suite during the gala!"
"We don't attack the suite during the party," Vincent snapped softly, his eyes burning with cold malice. "We wait until the guests leave at midnight. I have two men inside the house security team. We cut the power to the East Wing, we take the girl and the mother, and we drop them into Lake Michigan before dawn."
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He downed his scotch in a single gulp and slammed the glass onto the mantelpiece.
"No witnesses," Vincent growled. "No heirs. No past."
