Chapter 10 - A Seat at the Table
Six months had passed since the day Boss Mia climbed into my executive chair and rewrote the rules of the Moretti empire.
Spring had blossomed across New York City, bringing vibrant green to Central Park and warm sunlight streaming through the bulletproof glass of the forty-second-floor office. The transition had been seamless; under my restructured leadership, the legitimate businesses were thriving, our shipping lines were setting record profits, and the dark undercurrents of the syndicate had been purged of greed, corruption, and cruelty.
Today was a special day.
The heavy oak door of my private office opened, and Elena stepped inside carrying a tray filled with freshly brewed coffee, a stack of audited quarterly reports, and a small, delicate glass bowl overflowing with bright, freshly washed strawberries.
Behind her walked Mia.
She wasn't wearing a yellow dress today; she wore a sharp, miniature navy-blue blazer over a white shirt, complete with a tiny faux-leather ID badge clipped to her pocket that read: MIA BENNETT: CHIEF EXECUTIVE OF SNACKS & MORALE.
I sat behind my desk, watching them with a profound sense of peace I hadn't felt since I was a boy.
“Good morning, Mr. Moretti,” Elena said, her voice bright, steady, and completely devoid of the lingering shadows of her past. She set the coffee down and smiled warmly. “The Tribeca restaurant expansion is fully approved by the city zoning board, and the freight manifests from Marseille are completely reconciled.”
“Thank you, Elena,” I replied, offering a warm smile. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“I had help,” Elena laughed, glancing down at her daughter.
Mia marched right up to the mahogany desk, placed her hands flat on the edge, and looked up at me with absolute authority.
“Uncle Luca,” she announced solemnly. “My five minutes start now.”
I stood up from the executive chair immediately, stepping back and offering a sweeping, courtly bow with my hand across my chest.
“Of course, Boss Mia. The floor is entirely yours.”
Without a second wasted, Mia scrambled up onto the plush leather cushion, tucking her small legs underneath her, grabbing my heavy Montblanc pen, and opening her personalized coloring book on the executive blotter.
Elena walked over to stand beside me, leaning back against the edge of the desk as we both looked down at the tiny girl ruling our world.
“You know,” Elena whispered softly, her hand brushing lightly against mine where it rested on the wood—her wrist entirely unblemished, smooth and whole in the sunlight, “she still tells everyone she meets that she’s the boss of Manhattan.”
I turned my head, looking down at Elena’s serene, beautiful face, feeling the heavy armor around my heart completely dissolve into something warm and permanent.
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“She’s not wrong,” I murmured, wrapping my fingers gently around hers. “She saved us both.”
Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city of New York stretched out endlessly beneath the golden spring sun—vibrant, living, and entirely safe. And inside the highest room in the tower, the smallest sovereign in the world sat in her rightful place, smiling down at her kingdom, knowing that nobody would ever make Mommy cry again.
