Chapter 5 - The Strike of Moretti
The happiness that filled the Romano Estate was shattered three weeks later on a rainy Thursday night.
Vincent was downtown attending an urgent meeting of the syndicate commission at a hotel in Midtown. Sal Moretti had called the meeting under the pretense of discussing harbor shipping routes, but the air in the private conference room was thick with tension.
"You've grown soft, Romano," Sal Moretti sneered across the heavy mahogany conference table. Moretti was an old, ruthless warlord with silver hair and a scar running down his left cheek. "Word on the street is you bought yourself a little family. A coffee shop girl and a bastard kid."
Vincent sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable, though a dangerous coldness radiated from his frame. "Careful where you walk, Sal. My personal life is not on the agenda."
"Isn't it?" Moretti grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "You ran my collector, Derek Vane, out of the city over that woman's debt. You violated our territorial agreement in Brooklyn."
"Vane was trafficking children," Vincent replied coldly. "If you support that, Sal, perhaps the commission needs to reconsider your seat at this table."
Moretti’s smile widened into something sinister. He checked his gold wristwatch. "You always were a righteous bastard, Vincent. But while you're sitting here talking about morality... my boys are taking care of loose ends."
Vincent’s blood turned to ice.
Before Moretti could finish his sentence, Vincent pulled a concealed sidearm from his shoulder holster, aimed across the table, and shot Sal Moretti directly through the chest.
The conference room exploded into chaos as men drew weapons and glass shattered, but Vincent didn't care about the commission. He scrambled over the table, grabbed Marco by the collar, and barked into his ear: "GET THE CAR! NOW!"
At the Romano Estate, thirty miles away, the power suddenly went out.
The grand chandeliers flickered and died, plunging the house into total darkness. Thunder rumbled over the ocean outside as rain smashed against the tall windows.
Emily stood in the second-floor hallway, holding a flashlight, her heart pounding frantically. "Mrs. Higgins! Enzo!"
Downstairs, the sound of heavy boots crunching through shattered glass echoed up the marble staircase.
"EMILY!" Enzo’s voice roared from the foyer below, followed immediately by the deafening crack of automatic gunfire.
Emily ran straight into Lily's bedroom. Lily was hiding under her blanket, trembling violently.
"Mommy! What's happening?!" Lily cried out.
"Shh! Baby, stay quiet!" Emily whispered, scooping Lily out of bed and pulling her toward the secret passage behind the walk-in closet—a panic room Vincent had shown her during her first week at the estate.
She punched the six-digit code into the hidden keypad behind a suit rack. The heavy steel door slid open with a soft hiss.
"Get inside, Lily! Go!" Emily urged, pushing her daughter into the reinforced room.
"Mommy, come with me!" Lily sobbed, pulling at her dress.
Before Emily could step inside, a heavy hand grabbed her hair from behind, yanked her violently backward out of the closet, and slammed her against the bedroom wall.
"Got you, Mrs. Romano!" a masked gunman grunted, raising a heavy pistol to strike her face.
"GET AWAY FROM MY MOM!" a small voice shrieked.
Lily had scrambled back out of the panic room. She grabbed a heavy bronze bedside lamp with both hands and slammed it with all her tiny strength against the gunman's knee.
The man howled in pain, stumbling sideways.
That second was all Emily needed. She grabbed a heavy crystal vase from the nightstand and smashed it directly over the gunman's head. The glass shattered, and the attacker collapsed unconscious onto the carpet.
Emily grabbed Lily, dragged her back into the panic room, slid the heavy steel door shut, and hit the lock button.
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Inside the dark, reinforced steel room, the heavy thuds of gunshots outside were muffled. Emily pulled Lily into her lap, holding her tight as they rocked back and forth on the floor in the dark.
"It's okay, baby... it's okay..." Emily whispered, tears streaming down her face as she pressed her lips against Lily’s hair. "Daddy is coming. Daddy is coming."
