Chapter 4 - The Snake in the House
To defeat an enemy outside, you must first ensure there are no venomous snakes inside your own garden.
The attack on my mansion had been too precise. Valenti’s strike team knew the exact window when my outer guards changed shifts. They knew I was away at a meeting downtown.
Someone inside my inner circle had sold me out.
By noon, I had summoned my five top Caporegimes—the commanders who controlled my syndicate’s territories across Illinois—to the underground vault beneath the safehouse.
The room was built of solid reinforced concrete, fitted with frequency jammers that rendered all electronic devices useless.
The five men sat around a heavy steel table:
Dominic, my loyal lieutenant and chief of security.
Frankie "The Hammer" Rossi, commander of the docks and shipping routes.
Paulie Varga, head of financial operations and laundering.
Julian Mercer, the young, brilliant strategist who managed our legal fronts.
Enzo Moretti, my distant cousin who managed our weapons distribution network.
They looked tense. News of the breach at the main estate had already sent shockwaves through the underworld.
"Gentlemen," I began, standing at the head of the table. "Last night, my private home was breached by a Valenti strike team."
Mutterings ran through the table.
"How did they get past the outer gates, Alejandro?" Frankie asked, slamming a heavy fist on the table. "That place is a fortress!"
"They had help," I said coldly. "Someone gave them our guard rotation schedules. Someone gave them the layout of my private wing."
Enzo frowned. "Alejandro, you can't possibly think one of us—"
"I don't think. I know," I interrupted, resting both palms on the steel table. "And that brings me to the second matter of the day."
I pulled a remote from my pocket and pressed a button. The digital screen on the wall flickered to life, showing a live feed from the upper floor of the safehouse.
The screen showed Mateo, Leo, Nico, and Gio sitting around the kitchen counter, eating lunch with Elena.
The room went dead silent. The five men stared at the monitor in absolute shock.
"Are those...?" Paulie gasped, his eyes wide.
"My sons," I said clearly. "Sofia gave birth to quadruplets five years ago before she passed. They carry my blood. They are the sole heirs to the Moretti empire."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the men. But I wasn't looking at the group. My eyes were locked on Julian Mercer.
Julian had blinked three times in rapid succession—a subconscious nervous tick I had noted years ago during negotiations with the New York families. His hands had gripped the edge of his chair just a fraction too tightly.
"Four heirs," Julian said, quickly recovering his composure and offering a warm smile. "Alejandro... this is incredible news. The bloodline is secure. Chicago will remain ours!"
"It would be incredible news," I said, walking slowly down the length of the table toward Julian. "If Marco Valenti hadn't put a ten-million-dollar bounty on their heads three hours ago."
Julian’s smile faltered slightly. "Valenti is desperate. He knows he’s losing ground."
"No, Julian," I said, stopping directly behind his chair. "Valenti knew about the boys before I did."
I placed my hands on Julian’s shoulders. He went rigid.
"Dominic," I commanded. "Bring up the financial logs for the Shell Corporation Vanguard Holdings."
Dominic tapped a button on his tablet. The screen shifted to display a series of offshore bank transfers originating from a Swiss account linked to Marco Valenti, terminating in a Cayman Islands account registered under Julian Mercer's mother's maiden name.
Two million dollars, transferred three days ago.
"Julian," I whispered near his ear. "You sold my home. You sold my wife's memory. And you put a price on four innocent boys."
Julian panicked. He reached for the shoulder holster concealed beneath his tailored suit jacket.
Before his fingers could touch leather, my right hand struck like a pit viper. I grabbed his wrist, twisted it back with an audible CRACK, and slammed his head violently against the steel table.
He dropped to his knees, screaming in pain, holding his broken wrist.
"Please! Alejandro! Mercya!" Julian begged, blood pouring from his nose. "Valenti threatened my family! He said he’d burn my sisters alive if I didn't give him the entry codes!"
"You should have come to me," I said, my voice terrifyingly calm. "I would have protected your family. But instead, you traded my children’s lives for your own skin."
I drew my pistol and handed it to Frankie Rossi.
"Take him to the basement," I told Frankie. "Find out everything he gave Valenti. Then feed him to the river."
Frankie dragged the weeping traitor out of the vault.
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I turned back to the remaining three captains—Dominic, Paulie, and Enzo. Their faces were pale, their loyalty solidified in absolute terror and respect.
"The house is clean," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. "Now, we go to war."
