Chapter 4 - The Underground Tribunal
The basement of Blackwater House was nothing like the pristine, high-class estate upstairs. It was a sprawling, concrete bunker lit by industrial overhead fluorescent panels, smelling faintly of gun oil, damp earth, and ozone.
When Enzo opened the heavy steel door for us, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
Alessandro Moretti sat at the head of a long steel table. He had changed into a fresh black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, scarred forearms. Standing bound and gagged in a metal chair in the center of the room was Vincenzo Rossi.
Vincenzo’s face was bruised, his expensive suit rumpled, and his eyes wild with terror as he looked at Alessandro.
Two armed guards stood on either side of him.
As Emma and I walked in, holding hands, all eyes in the room turned toward us. Alessandro stood up slowly, leaning his palms flat against the steel table.
"Clara. Emma," Alessandro said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Thank you for coming down."
"You asked for us, Mr. Moretti," I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible, shielding Emma slightly behind my leg.
Alessandro walked around the table until he stood just a few feet away from us. He looked down at Emma, and to my utter astonishment, a faint, rare ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brand-new, unopened pink inhaler, identical to the one Emma had given him, along with a small, neat velvet box.
He knelt down on one knee so he was at eye level with my daughter.
"Emma," Alessandro said gently. "Yesterday, you gave me your last medicine. You saved my life when I had no one else."
Emma blinked, clutching my hand tighter. "Are you better now?"
"Much better," Alessandro replied. He opened the velvet box. Inside sat a sparkling diamond pendant shaped like a tiny, delicate rabbit. "This is a token of my gratitude. And as for your medical supplies—your mother’s insurance will never be a problem again. All your prescriptions, for as long as you need them, are covered for life through Moretti Enterprises."
Emma stared at the sparkly necklace, then looked up at me for permission. I was too stunned to speak, a lump forming in my throat as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
"Say thank you, sweetie," I managed to whisper.
"Thank you, Mr. Moretti," Emma said politely.
Alessandro stood up and turned his cold, piercing gaze toward the bound man in the chair. He yanked the gag down from Vincenzo’s mouth.
"Vincenzo," Alessandro said softly, his voice dropping an octave into a terrifying register. "You were my brother. You managed my ports, you sat at my table, and you decided my lungs were too weak to keep running the family."
"Ali—listen to me!" Vincenzo gasped, sweat pouring down his forehead. "It was business! The syndicate in Chicago offered me—"
May you like
"I know what they offered you," Alessandro interrupted calmly. He signaled to Enzo. "Take him to the shipping yards in Queens. Put him on a freighter to South America with nothing in his pockets. If he ever sets foot in New York again, feed him the rest of that industrial solvent."
Vincenzo screamed as the guards hauled him out of the room, his voice echoing away into the concrete corridors until the heavy steel door slammed shut, cutting off the sound entirely.
