Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
The dining hall fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. You could hear the rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows outside.
"Me?" Elena let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, stepping back from his chair. "You’re accusing me? Your own fiancée? The woman who brought the Vance shipping empire to your doorstep? Have you lost your mind?"
"My mind has never been sharper," Damiano said. He stood up slowly, towering over the table. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small, slim memory drive, tossing it next to the explosives. "That’s the hard drive from the hallway security camera outside this room. It shows you entering this hall at 1:45 PM carrying a heavily padded leather portfolio. It shows you spending twenty minutes alone inside, exactly where the device was planted."
Elena’s eyes widened, the mask of innocent socialite finally shattering to reveal a cold, calculating predator.
"You're a fool, Damiano," Elena hissed, dropping all pretenses. Her voice turned venomous. "You think you can rule the entire East Coast by yourself? My father built this alliance! I was supposed to be your queen, not a trophy wife you keep locked in a gilded cage while you run your empire like a dictator!"
"You were never going to be a queen, Elena," Damiano’s voice dropped into a terrifying, glacial register. "You were an ambitious traitor who thought she could outsmart the room."
Salvatore Marcone stood up, his face purple with rage, his hand hovering over his holster. "You brought a bomb into a peace summit, you treacherous little bitch? You were going to kill us all?"
Before Salvatore could draw his weapon, Damiano raised a single hand.
"She doesn't leave this room in a body bag, Sal," Damiano commanded, his eyes locked on Elena. "She leaves in handcuffs. The federal indictments for arms trafficking and domestic terrorism were signed by a judge of mine ten minutes ago. Federal marshals are waiting at the front gates right now."
Elena sneered, her fingers twitching toward a small clutch purse hanging from her wrist. "You think prison can hold me, Damiano? My family—"
"Your family disavowed you the second I sent them the financial ledgers linking your accounts to the North Side cartel," Damiano interrupted coldly. He nodded toward the doors.
Four armed enforcers stepped into the dining hall, moving with ruthless efficiency. Before Elena could reach into her purse, they seized her arms, snapping heavy steel cuffs around her wrists with a sharp clack.
"Let me go!" Elena screamed, thrashing wildly as they dragged her toward the side exit. "You’ll regret this, Damiano! You and your little whore!"
She stopped, turning her head as she reached the threshold, her glare shooting straight toward the service pantry where I stood watching through the glass.
"And that brat of yours!" Elena shrieked, struggling against the guards. "I should have finished her when I saw her in the hallway! I should have—"
A deafening roar cut her off.
Damiano moved faster than I had ever seen a man move. In two strides, he crossed the room, grabbing Elena by the arm and spinning her around so hard she slammed against the wall, the breath rushing out of her lungs in a sharp gasp.
The entire room held its breath. Even the seasoned Mafia dons looked away from the sheer, homicidal fury radiating off Damiano Moretti.
"If you ever speak her name again," Damiano whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl that echoed off the stone walls, "I won't let the federals take you. I will bury you in a box six feet under the lake before sunrise."
Elena went completely limp, terror finally sinking deep into her bones.
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"Get her out of my sight," Damiano ordered.
The guards dragged her away, the heavy oak doors closing behind them with a final, echoing thud.
