Chapter 4 - The Shadow Over Westchester
Lorenzo brought me to an unassuming brownstone tucked away in the industrial heart of Red Hook.
The windows were reinforced with discreet steel mesh on the inside, and two armed guards stood watch behind the heavy front drapes.
The interior smelled of old cedar wood, black coffee, and gun oil.
Lorenzo pointed me toward a small guest bathroom on the ground floor.
"There are clean towels and an antiseptic kit in the cabinet," he said, taking off his wet overcoat.
"Use them."
I stood in front of the mirror under the harsh yellow bulb.
My reflection was that of a stranger.
My silk blouse was stained with river water and soot.
My feet were covered in shallow lacerations from walking across the broken pavement of Manhattan.
I washed the blood and grime from my skin with warm water, biting my lip to keep from crying out as the alcohol burned the cuts.
I wrapped myself in an oversized gray wool sweater and a pair of drawstring trousers that one of Lorenzo’s guards provided.
When I returned to the living room, a steaming mug of black tea sat on the wooden table.
Lorenzo was sitting at a battered oak desk, reviewing surveillance photographs spread across the blotter.
"Dominic believes you gave me the coordinates," Lorenzo said without looking up from the photographs.
"I know he does."
"Salvatore planted my family’s crest on the shooters at the dock."
"I saw Geno produce the medallion," I whispered, holding the warm mug between my cold hands.
"It was a setup from the very beginning."
"Salvatore hired third-tier mercenaries from Queens, dressed them in generic tactical gear, and gave them my markers."
"He sacrificed twelve men tonight just to convince Dominic that I am his mortal enemy."
I pulled the wool blanket tighter around my shoulders.
"Why tonight, Lorenzo?"
"Why would Salvatore move against Dominic now after three years of peace?"
Lorenzo pushed one of the surveillance photographs across the table toward me.
The image was grainy, taken through a long-range telephoto lens.
It showed an elderly woman sitting in a wheelchair on a stone veranda surrounded by manicured rosebushes.
Her hair was silver, pulled back in an elegant chignon, and her thin hands rested on a tartan blanket.
My throat tightened.
"Donna Elena," I said, recognizing Dominic’s mother immediately.
"Dominic told the council she was resting at a private sanatorium in Switzerland after her stroke last spring."
"She never went to Switzerland," Lorenzo said coldly.
"Salvatore convinced Dominic that the family estate in Westchester was safer for her recovery."
"He staffed the entire property with his own private security team under the pretense of medical isolation."
"Donna Elena holds the ultimate deed to the Moretti foundation trust," I realized, the pieces finally snapping into place with horrifying clarity.
"Dominic may be the boss of the streets, but his father’s will was ironclad."
"The real estate holdings, the shipping contracts, the overseas bank accounts—they do not transfer to Dominic unconditionally until his thirty-fifth birthday."
"Until then, Donna Elena has the sole power of attorney."
"If Dominic dies, the trust does not go to you, Madeline," Lorenzo explained, leaning forward.
"The trust reverts entirely to the senior surviving brother of the late Don."
"Salvatore," I whispered.
"Salvatore becomes the legal guardian of the entire estate if Dominic is eliminated and Donna Elena is deemed mentally unfit."
"Or if Donna Elena suffers a fatal cardiac event in her sleep," Lorenzo added with chilling neutrality.
I set the tea mug down on the table, my hands trembling with a sudden surge of adrenaline.
"Salvatore isn't going to wait."
"He failed to kill Dominic at Pier Fourteen because Matteo was too fast."
"Now Dominic is alert, the family is on high tactical readiness, and the streets are crawling with federal agents."
"Salvatore cannot try another hit on Dominic in Manhattan without exposing his own men."
"So he will move on Westchester," Lorenzo finished my thought.
"He will eliminate the mother to force the legal transfer before Dominic discovers the truth about the pier."
"How many men does Salvatore have at the Westchester estate?" I asked.
"Eight guards on the perimeter."
"Two private nurses on his payroll."
"And Geno will arrive there before dawn to oversee the clean-up."
I stood up from the table, my bare feet firm against the wooden floorboards.
"I need a vehicle, Lorenzo."
Lorenzo looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
"Did you hit your head when you dove into my car?"
"Dominic has already issued a green light on your life."
"If any Moretti soldier spots you within fifty miles of New York, they will put a bullet through your skull before you can open your mouth."
"I don't care about Dominic’s orders."
"Donna Elena protected me when I first married into that family."
"When Dominic’s capos treated me like an outsider because my father was an ordinary accountant, Donna Elena sat me beside her at Sunday dinner."
"She placed her grandmother’s cross around my neck and told them I was her daughter."
"I am not going to sit in a Brooklyn safehouse while Salvatore smothers her in her bed."
Lorenzo stared at me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us until the antique wall clock chimed one in the morning.
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, snub-nosed revolver and two speed-loaders.
He pushed them across the oak blotter toward me.
"You are insane, Madeline."
"Probably," I said, picking up the heavy steel weapon.
May you like
"Then take Marco’s sedan," Lorenzo said quietly.
"Because if you die in Westchester, I will deny I ever saw your face tonight."
