Chapter 9 - The Fall of Anthony
The dining room went completely silent except for the heavy, panicked breathing of Anthony Moretti.
“Dominic... listen to me,” Anthony stammered, his arrogant posture completely collapsing into desperate pleading. “We’re blood! I’m your father’s brother! You can't destroy our family for a secretary’s daughter!”
“My father spent his entire life building this family’s name on honor and loyalty,” Dominic said, his gray eyes flashing with lethal fury. “You stole from his company. You hid my father’s personal letters. You left his true wishes in the dark while he lay dying in this very house.”
Dominic stepped around the table, stopping three feet away from his uncle.
“You are stripped of all corporate titles in the Moretti Group,” Dominic announced, his voice echoing through the grand hall like a death sentence. “Your access to the shipping docks is revoked. Your bank accounts in New York and Panama are frozen as of six o'clock tonight.”
“You can't do this!” Anthony screamed, reaching into his suit jacket.
CLICK.
Before Anthony’s hand could reach his inner pocket, Marco instantly stepped forward, pressing the barrel of a suppressed pistol directly against the back of Anthony’s neck.
“Don't even think about it, Anthony,” Marco whispered coldly.
Dominic slowly reached into Anthony’s jacket and pulled out a small silver revolver, setting it casually on the dining table.
“You’re going to board a plane to Italy tonight, Uncle,” Dominic said softly. “You will live in our family’s old stone villa in Calabria. You will never set foot in the United States again. If you ever return to New York... if you ever speak Anna’s name, or look in her daughter’s direction... Marco will ensure you are buried in the deep waters off the Jersey coast.”
Anthony trembled, tears of bitter defeat leaking down his aged cheeks. He looked at Dominic, then looked at me, realizing with absolute terror that his reign in New York was over forever.
“Take him to the airport,” Dominic ordered flatly.
Marco grabbed Anthony by his collar, dragging the disgraced uncle out of the dining room, while two security guards escorted the weeping Frank Sterling behind them.
The heavy double doors closed softly.
The dining room fell quiet once more.
I sat in my chair, my heart pounding against my ribs, watching Dominic as he slowly walked over to the grand window looking out over the moonlit estate.
I stood up, walking over to stand beside him.
“Is it over?” I whispered.
May you like
Dominic looked down at me, his gray eyes soft, warm, and filled with a profound relief.
“It’s over, Anna,” Dominic said gently. “Your mother’s name is cleared. Your trust is secure. Nobody will ever hunt you again.”
