Chapter 4 - The Counter-Strike
By two o'clock in the morning, the Moretti estate had become an invisible war room.
Dr. Vance sat bound and gagged in a chair in the basement wine cellar, guarded by two silent enforcers who looked like they were waiting for an excuse to use their knives.
Upstairs in the medical suite, the transformation was extraordinary.
Matteo was sitting upright at a forty-five-degree angle in his bed, an oxygen mask resting loosely around his neck. He had been given sips of water, his IV lines had been flushed, and though he was still physically exhausted and weak from weeks of muscle atrophy, his mind was entirely sharp, cold, and lucid.
Dante sat in the chair beside him, a bottle of fine scotch sitting open on the bedside table between them, though neither man had touched a drop.
"Silvio called a full Commission meeting for tomorrow afternoon at the docks," Matteo said, his voice stronger now, though still gravelly from disuse. "He thinks you're going to pull the plug on me on Monday. He wants to use the meeting to formally petition the other families to recognize him as acting boss while you 'grieve'."
Dante’s jaw tightened, a dark, murderous gleam in his eyes. "He’s been working the captains for two weeks. Telling them I've lost my edge because I spent every night sitting in this room instead of managing the shipments."
"Let him think he's winning," Matteo said, leaning his head back against the pillows. "Let him walk right into the trap."
Dante looked at his brother, concern softening his harsh features. "You aren't strong enough to move, Matty. Dr. Patel says your muscle tone is depleted. You can barely stand."
"I don't need to stand to fire a gun, Dante," Matteo replied, his dark eyes flashing with lethal intent. "And I sure as hell don't need to stand to watch you take that bastard's head off."
Just then, a quiet knock sounded at the suite door.
Elina stepped in, holding a tray with a fresh pot of herbal tea and two warm towels. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, but she moved with her usual quiet grace. Mia was fast asleep in the small adjoining lounge room, tucked under a heavy wool blanket on the sofa.
"I brought some tea, Mr. Moretti," Elina said softly, setting the tray down on the table near the door. "Dr. Patel said warm liquids would help your throat."
Matteo looked at her, his expression softening completely. "Thank you, Elina."
Elina offered a polite bow of her head and turned to leave, but Dante stood up.
"Elina. Stay a moment," Dante said.
She stopped, turning around nervously. "Yes, sir?"
Dante walked over to his desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a thick, black leather folder. He brought it over and set it in her hands.
Elina looked down at it, her brow furrowing. "What is this?"
"It’s the deed to a house in Monmouth County," Dante said calmly. "Four bedrooms, two acres, fully furnished. Along with a trust fund established in Mia’s name that will cover her private schooling and university education up to her twenty-fifth birthday."
Elina’s mouth parted in absolute shock. She stared at the black folder, then up at Dante, her face turning pale. "Mr. Moretti... I can't take this. I'm just a housekeeper. I was just doing my job—"
"Your daughter saved my brother's life," Dante interrupted, his voice dropping into a deep, sincere register that left no room for argument. "If Mia hadn't noticed his eye move, Vance would have administered a lethal dose of potassium on Monday morning, and I would have buried my brother believing his brain was gone."
Matteo nodded weakly from the bed. "He's right, Elina. You and that little girl are part of this family now. Nobody in this house ever forgets a debt. And I owe my life to your daughter."
Tears welling in her eyes, Elina clutched the folder to her chest. For sixteen months, she had struggled to raise her daughter on a housekeeper’s wage, worrying every night about rent, healthcare, and what kind of future she could build for her little girl in the shadows of North Jersey. In a single evening, everything had changed.
"Thank you," Elina whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you, both of you."
"Pack your bags tomorrow morning," Dante instructed gently. "My men will escort you and Mia to the new house before noon. It’s far away from the city, near the coast. Safe. Quiet."
Elina bowed her head deeply, tears spilling over her cheeks as she stepped out of the room to check on her sleeping child.
Dante turned back to his brother, the warmth fading from his face as the dark business of the coming day returned.
"Tomorrow at three o'clock," Dante said, picking up his scotch glass and taking a slow sip. "Silvio thinks he's taking over North Jersey."
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Matteo reached out, taking his own glass from the table, his knuckles pale as he gripped the crystal.
"Tomorrow at three o'clock," Matteo growled softly, "we show him who runs the Moretti family."
