Chapter 5 - The Master of House Moretti
By 5:00 AM, the storm over Manhattan had begun to clear, leaving behind a crisp, violet dawn that painted the towers of the city in cold silver light.
In Trauma Bay One, five-year-old Luca was awake.
He was sitting propped up against a mountain of down pillows, the oxygen cannula resting comfortably beneath his nose, his fever down to ninety-nine degrees. His dark gray-blue eyes—the exact shade of my father's—were wide with wonder as he held a warm mug of hot chocolate topped with miniature marshmallows that Marco had procured from the bakery.
Beside him on the mattress sat Sophia, showing him a picture book about nautical vessels, while the rag doll Bella sat proudly on the metal side table.
"Papa?" Luca's small voice was raspy, testing the word like a fragile glass ornament.
I sat on the edge of his bed, wearing only my white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, my dark hair disheveled, holding his small, warm hand in both of mine.
"I’m right here, my boy," I murmured, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"Are we going to sleep in the cold house again?" Luca asked, his small fingers tightening around my thumb.
"Never again, Luca," I promised, my voice vibrating with an iron vow. "You have a home with soaring windows, a garden that runs all the way to the water, and twenty men whose only job on this earth is to keep you safe."
Frank Callahan stepped into the doorway, catching my eye with a subtle nod.
I kissed both children, gently tucked the heavy fleece blanket around Luca's shoulders, and walked out into the private corridor.
Miss Eleanor Vance stood beside Frank, holding an amended legal binder stamped with the official seal of the State of New York.
"The amended birth certificates have been entered into the state vital statistics registry, Mr. Moretti," Miss Vance said, handing me the leather-bound documents with deep, genuine respect. "All municipal custody warrants have been vacated with prejudice. Sophia and Luca Moretti are officially in your sole legal and physical custody."
"Thank you, Miss Vance," I said, taking the documents. "Frank has already transferred a five-million-dollar endowment to your municipal shelter program to ensure that no child in this city ever has their shoes taken away again."
Miss Vance’s mouth parted in stunned, tearful gratitude. "Mr. Moretti... that will fund three regional safe houses."
"Make sure it does," I replied softly.
I turned to Frank Callahan and Marco, who stood at attention by the elevator bank.
"Where is Dominic right now?" I asked.
"At the ancestral estate in Oyster Bay, Boss," Marco replied, his jaw setting with grim discipline. "He convened an emergency breakfast summit with the six family capos for eight o'clock this morning. He intends to present a resolution declaring you 'mentally incapacitated by unverified domestic claims,' attempting to invoke the conservatorship clause of the 2018 trust."
May you like
A cold, terrifying smile touched my lips—the smile that had preceded the fall of three rival syndicates.
"Tell the garage to fuel the armored convoy," I commanded. "We are going to Oyster Bay. It's time for my uncle to meet his grandchildren."
