Chapter 6 - THE GATHERING STORM AT DAWN
As the first pale light of Christmas morning broke through the heavy grey clouds of the receding blizzard, the Moretti estate looked like a fortress carved out of pure ice. Deep snowdrifts blocked the iron gates, and the wind had finally died down to a bitter, whispering chill. Inside, however, the real storm was just beginning to brew.
In the west parlor, Camila Rossi sat on a velvet sofa, her hair slightly disheveled, wrapped in a fur coat while three of her closest loyalists stood guard by the windows. They had spent the entire night without heat or proper refreshments, treated not as honored guests, but as detainees. The heavy oak doors swung open, and Stefano walked in, flanked by four armed enforcers.
"The snowplows have cleared the primary access road to the interstate," Stefano announced coldly. "Your transport is waiting outside. You have twenty minutes to leave the property."
Camila sprang to her feet, her face twisted in pure venom. "Where is Lorenzo?! I demand to speak to him face-to-face! You think he can just discard me like garbage over a filthy servant girl? My father will declare war on the Moretti family before the week is out! Bodies will be hanging from every lamppost in Manhattan!"
"Mr. Moretti is currently occupied," Stefano replied, his voice completely unbothered by her threats. "And as for your father, he received a comprehensive digital dossier this morning detailing exactly how you abused staff, endangered human life on our property, and attempted to frame an innocent employee for theft. I’m told Mr. Rossi was not pleased with your lack of discipline."
Camila’s face turned completely white. "That’s... that’s a lie. My father wouldn't—"
"Your father values his shipping routes and his partnership with the Moretti syndicate far more than an undisciplined daughter who cannot control her temper," Stefano interrupted, gesturing toward the doors. "Your car is waiting. Do not test our patience further, Miss Rossi."
Realizing she had completely lost the battle, Camila grabbed her designer handbag, her eyes burning with a murderous hatred that she didn't bother to hide. "Tell Lorenzo he hasn't heard the last of this. This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
As Camila and her entourage stormed out of the parlor and marched through the snowy courtyard toward their waiting SUVs, Lorenzo watched from the second-floor study window. He took a slow sip of his espresso, his expression completely unreadable. He knew the Chicago Outfit might retaliate eventually, but he also knew that fear was a poor weapon against a man who had nothing left to lose—and even less reason to care.
"Boss," Marco said, stepping quietly into the study. "The transport has cleared the gates. The estate is secure."
"Good," Lorenzo replied, turning away from the window. "How is Elara?"
"Dr. Sterling checked her vitals an hour ago. She’s resting comfortably. Her fever has broken, and she’s eating some warm broth. But... she’s asking when she can return to work."
Lorenzo let out a quiet sigh, a faint, rare smile touching the corners of his lips. "Tell her she is officially relieved of her duties as a maid."
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Marco blinked in surprise. "Sir? Are you firing her?"
"No," Lorenzo said, walking toward the door. "I’m promoting her."
