Chapter 4 - SHADOWS AT THE GALA
The grand drawing room on the main floor was packed with powerful men in tailored suits. The atmosphere was thick with cigar smoke and the heavy smell of expensive whiskey.
When I pushed Desmond's wheelchair into the room, the conversations died instantly.
Matteo stood at the center of the Persian rug, surrounded by three older men who represented the senior council of the Gallagher syndicate. Among them stood a stranger—a sharp-featured man with slicked-back hair and a crimson tie. Lorenzo Moretti. The head of the rival Moretti crime family.
"Desmond," Matteo said, bowing his head in a mock gesture of respect. "We were just discussing the future of our operations. Lorenzo here was kind enough to offer a truce—under new terms."
Desmond sat back in his chair, his hands resting casually on his lap. "You brought a Moretti into my home, Matteo? There was a time when that was considered treason punishable by death."
Lorenzo Moretti took a step forward, a sneering smile on his face. "Times change, Gallagher. You've been sitting in that chair for eight months while your territories bleed. Your men are restless. Matteo was smart enough to realize that a king who can't stand can't rule."
"I rule with my mind, Lorenzo," Desmond said smoothly. "Something you've never had much use for."
"We're taking a vote today," Matteo interrupted, stepping closer to Desmond's chair. "The senior council agrees. You step down voluntarily, hand over the primary account codes, and retire quietly to your country estate. If you refuse..." Matteo tapped the side of his jacket, revealing the dark handle of a weapon. "...we make the transition permanent."
I felt my blood run cold. I stepped closer to the back of Desmond's chair, my hands tightening on the rubber grips.
Desmond didn't flinch. He didn't even look at Matteo's gun. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a gold lighter, and lit a cigar with completely steady hands.
"You always were impatient, Matteo," Desmond said softly, blowing a plume of blue smoke into the air. "Did you really think I didn't know about the off-shore accounts you opened in the Caymans three months ago? Or the meetings you had with Lorenzo at the harbor hotel?"
Matteo's smile faltered slightly. "What are you talking about?"
"Sam," Desmond said quietly.
The heavy doors behind Matteo swung shut with a loud THUD.
From the shadows of the balcony above, four of Desmond's most loyal marksmen unholstered their automatic rifles, aiming directly down at Matteo and his conspirators.
"Did you really think I was helpless?" Desmond whispered, his voice echoing in the silent hall. "I built this empire from nothing. I let you play your little games because I needed to know every rat in the walls before I set the trap."
Matteo's face turned white. He reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, Desmond's hand moved like lightning.
A small, silenced pistol appeared in Desmond's hand—drawn from a concealed pouch under his wheelchair cushion.
PUB!
A single shot rang out. Matteo gasped, dropping to his knees as a bullet tore through his shoulder. The weapon fell from his numb fingers, clattering onto the marble floor.
"Get them out of my sight," Desmond ordered coldly, setting the pistol back on his lap. "Lock them in the basement vault. We will deal with the Moretti family tomorrow."
The guards flooded the room, tackling Lorenzo and Matteo to the ground and dragging them away into the dark lower levels of the estate.
Within sixty seconds, the room was empty again, save for the smell of gunpowder and cigar smoke.
I stood behind the chair, my knees shaking uncontrollably. My mind was spinning.
Desmond turned his chair around to face me. The lethal coldness in his eyes softened just a fraction as he looked at my pale face.
"I told you it was a setup," he said softly.
May you like
"You could have been killed," I whispered, my voice trembling with adrenaline and anger. "You played with your own life!"
"I played for total control," he corrected, reaching up to take my hand. His fingers were warm, steady, and alive. "And now... no one stands between us."
