Chapter 6 - The Anatomy of Betrayal
The morning brought a bleak, gray sky, but the storm had passed.
At eight o'clock, the high council of the Moretti organization gathered in the grand dining room downstairs. Eight men—capos, accountants, and territory bosses—sat around a long oak table. Sal Mercer sat at Dante’s right hand.
Vivienne entered the room wearing an elegant black suit, her hair styled with flawless precision. She took a seat at the head of the table beside Dante. Several of the older capos exchanged uneasy glances. In the history of the Moretti syndicate, no woman had ever sat at the council table during an active war brief.
Dante didn't ask for their permission. He sat at the head of the table, resting his hands on the polished wood.
"Last night, an attempt was made on my nephew’s life," Dante began, his voice dropping the temperature in the room by ten degrees.
Gasps ran around the table.
"Clara Bell was a spy working for Julian Vance," Dante continued coldly. "She attempted to poison Leo with a nerve toxin. She is currently in our custody."
"Jesus, Dante," one of the older capos, a man named Frank Ricci, breathed out, rubbing his face. "A baby? That’s sick. What about the Cross girl?" Frank shot a suspicious look toward Vivienne. "How do we know she wasn't in on it?"
Dante’s eyes locked onto Frank like two barrels of a shotgun. "Vivienne saved Leo’s life. She performed an emergency surgery on his airway while I was still running up the stairs. If anyone in this room questions my fiancée’s loyalty again, I will personally throw them into the lake."
Frank paled and quickly looked down at his papers. "Understood, Boss."
"However," Vivienne spoke up, her voice calm, commanding, and smooth, "Clara did not act alone."
The room went dead silent.
Vivienne opened a leather folder she had brought with her and laid out three sheets of medical and security logs.
"The toxin used on Leo was a military-grade organophosphate," Vivienne explained, her gray eyes scanning every face around the table with surgical precision. "It requires cold storage at precisely four degrees Celsius to remain stable. The estate's medical bay is the only place equipped with such refrigeration."
She tapped a finger on the second document. "The digital keycard logs show that only three people accessed the medical storage in the last forty-eight hours. Me, Dr. Harrison... and you, Sal."
The entire room turned to look at Salvatore Mercer.
Sal’s face went completely blank. For three decades, Sal had been the right-hand man to Dante’s father, and then to Marco, and finally to Dante. He was the pillar of the Moretti syndicate.
"Vivienne..." Sal said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Dante... you can't possibly believe this. I've served this family for thirty years. I brought you up after your father died!"
Dante didn't move. He stared at Sal, his face an unreadable mask of ice. "Sal. Open your coat."
"Dante, please—"
"Open your coat, Sal," Dante repeated, his voice dangerously low.
Sal’s hand shook as he slowly reached inside his dark suit jacket. But instead of pulling out a wallet or showing an empty pocket, Sal’s eyes suddenly filled with a desperate, crazed rage. He drew a snub-nosed revolver and aimed it directly at Dante’s chest!
THUD!
Before Sal could pull the trigger, Vivienne grabbed a heavy crystal water decanter from the table and smashed it across Sal’s face with brute force.
The decanter shattered, spraying water and glass. Sal stumbled backward, dropping the gun.
Dante was up in a flash. He vaulted over the corner of the table, grabbed Sal by the throat, and slammed him against the mahogany wall so hard the framed oil paintings rattled.
"Why?" Dante growled, his hand tightening around Sal’s throat until the man’s face turned purple. "You were my father's brother in arms! You were my uncle!"
Sal choked out a bloody laugh. "Your father... took everything... I built half this empire, Dante! And when he died, he gave it to Marco. Then Marco died, and he gave it to you! What about me?! Everett Cross offered me fifty percent of the shipping docks!"
Dante’s eyes burned with cold, terrifying finality. "You killed Marco," Dante realized, the horrific truth finally snapping into place. "It wasn't Everett. It was you."
"Marco... was going to merge... with Cross anyway..." Sal gasped. "I just... accelerated the timeline..."
Dante didn't utter another word. He snapped Sal’s neck with a single, brutal twist of his hands.
Sal’s body went limp and hit the carpet with a dull thud.
The capos around the table stood frozen in absolute terror. Dante stood over his former mentor, breathing heavily, his hands covered in sweat and dust.
Vivienne walked over to him, completely unbothered by the corpse at their feet. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a clean white silk handkerchief, and gently took Dante’s hands, wiping his knuckles.
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"The gangrene has been cut out," Vivienne whispered softly. "Now we take the fight to them."
Dante looked down at her, his heart swelling with a dark, fiercely protective love. He squeezed her hand tight. "Assemble the men. We end the Northern Alliance tonight."
