Chapter 3 - Shadows at the Gates
Downstairs in the vast, gothic kitchen, Clara was trying to focus on chopping vegetables, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Isabella sat at the island, sipping black coffee, her expression grim.
"She went up again ten minutes ago," Isabella stated quietly.
"I tried to stop her, Miss Isabella, I swear—" Clara started, panic rising in her chest.
"I told you not to stop her," Isabella interrupted, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Elena just called down from the medical wing. His neurological response was stronger today. Lorenzo’s eyes moved beneath his eyelids. For seven weeks, the doctors told us he was a vegetable. Your daughter is doing what a team of Harvard neurologists couldn't do with millions of dollars in equipment."
Before Clara could process the magnitude of what she was hearing, the heavy security intercom on the kitchen wall buzzed loudly.
Isabella pressed the speaker button, her demeanor shifting instantly into icy steel. "Speak."
“Isabella, it’s Marco,” a harsh, grating voice crackled through the speaker. Marco Vane, the ruthless underboss of the Moretti syndicate and Lorenzo’s ambitious cousin, filled the air with aggressive energy. “Open the iron gates. I’m coming up with the council. We need to inspect the second-floor master suite. People are whispering in the city that Lorenzo is brain-dead. If he’s gone, we need to vote on a successor today.”
Clara gasped, dropping a knife onto the wooden cutting board with a sharp clatter.
Isabella’s eyes flashed with pure venom. Marco had been waiting for this moment. If Marco entered the medical wing and discovered Lorenzo helpless, he would seize control of the syndicate, purge loyalists, and leave a trail of bodies—including anyone who stood in his way.
"Lorenzo Moretti is resting privately under strict medical quarantine," Isabella replied, her voice dripping with calculated authority. "No one enters the second floor without my express permission, Marco. Turn your car around at the gates, or I will have the perimeter guards escort you off the property at gunpoint."
May you like
A heavy silence hung over the intercom before Marco let out a cold, venomous laugh. “We’ll see how long you can hide him, Isabella. Enjoy your tea.”
The line clicked dead. Isabella slammed her fist onto the counter, her face pale. "Clara," she said tightly. "The wolves are at the door. And your daughter is the only weapon we have left."
