Chapter 4 - The Exposure
The air in the dining room became charged, like the moments before a lightning strike.
Leo and Bruno Moratti reached slowly inside their jackets, their hands moving toward their concealed weapons, but before they could touch steel, the doors to the dining room burst open.
Marco and six heavily armed Duca guards entered, their assault rifles raised and aimed directly at the Moratti family and Enzo.
"Don't," Alessandro warned, his voice low and dangerous. "My men are very tired today, and their fingers are very quick."
Vito Moratti slowly raised his hands, his face turning an angry shade of red. "Alessandro, this is an insult! You accuse your guests of treason in your own home? Your father would spit on your lack of hospitality!"
"My father was killed by a 'natural' heart attack six years ago, Vito," Alessandro said, standing up. He didn't look at Vito; he looked at Enzo. "And today, Dr. Bianchi confirmed something very interesting. My father’s medical records from the week of his death showed elevated levels of potassium and digitalis. But the report was filed away, marked as a common heart failure."
Alessandro took a step toward his consigliere.
"Enzo," Alessandro said, his voice dripping with a cold, terrifying sorrow. "You were the one who handled the medical reports after my father died. You were the one who told us there was no need for an autopsy. You said we must preserve his dignity."
Enzo sat perfectly still. The mask of the loyal mentor had finally slipped, revealing a cold, calculating face of a man who had waited decades for his turn at the throne.
"Your father was weak, Alessandro," Enzo said, his voice losing its warm, paternal tone, replaced by a flat, dry rattle. "He was content with his little kingdom. He didn't want to expand. He didn't want the millions that were waiting for us in the north. He was holding us back. Just like you are."
"So you poisoned him," Alessandro whispered.
"I gave him a peaceful exit," Enzo countered, showing no remorse. "And I would have given you the same. If it weren't for that wretched maid and her bastard child."
From the end of the table, Valerio let out a low, pathetic sob. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.
"Valerio," Alessandro said, his heart aching for the first time that day. "Tell me you didn't know."
"I... I didn't know about Father, Alessandro! I swear to God!" Valerio cried, looking up with eyes filled with terror and shame. "Enzo told me we were just going to force you to step down! He said we would use the New Jersey ports to build our own empire. He said you would be safe, just... retired. I didn't know he was going to kill you! I didn't know about the coffee!"
"You fool," Enzo hissed, glaring at the younger brother with pure disgust. "You wanted the crown but you didn't want the blood. You cannot have one without the other."
Alessandro looked at his brother. He saw the weakness, the gullibility, the pathetic greed that Enzo had exploited so easily. Valerio was his blood, but he was a liability. A liability that had almost cost Alessandro his life.
"Take Valerio to his room," Alessandro ordered his guards. "Lock the door. He is no longer a member of this family. He will be sent to the monastery in Sicily by morning. He will spend the rest of his days praying for the father he helped betray."
Valerio didn't fight as the guards dragged him out, his weeping echoing down the long, marble corridor until the heavy doors closed again.
Now, only the true monsters remained in the room.
Alessandro turned back to Enzo. "And you, old friend. You will not have a peaceful exit."
"You cannot kill me, Alessandro," Enzo said, a sneer appearing on his thin lips. "If I die, the financial records of the Duca family will be sent directly to the federal prosecutors. I have a dead-man's switch. Everything is prepared. You will destroy your own empire."
Alessandro walked over to the sideboard and picked up a clean glass. He poured a small amount of the Barolo wine into it, then walked back to Enzo.
"You are a smart man, Enzo," Alessandro said. "But you forgot one thing. I don't care about the money. I care about my father's memory. And I care about my survival."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dark blue glass vial. He uncorked it, letting a single drop of clear liquid fall into the red wine. The liquid dissolved instantly, leaving a faint, sweet scent of bitter almonds in the air.
"This is the digitalis from my cup," Alessandro said, holding the glass out to Enzo. "The same dose you prepared for me. Drink it."
Enzo’s eyes widened in absolute terror. He shrank back into his chair, his hands shaking. "Alessandro... no. Please. We can negotiate. I can give you the files. I can help you with the Moratti family!"
"Drink it, Enzo," Alessandro repeated, his voice as cold as the stone floors of the kitchen. "Or my men will hold you down and pour it down your throat. Choose the dignity you gave my father."
Enzo looked at the glass, then at the armed guards pointing their weapons at his head. He knew there was no escape. He knew the Duca wrath was absolute.
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With a shaking hand, the old consigliere reached out and took the glass. He looked at Alessandro one last time, his eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic hatred.
He lifted the glass to his lips and drank.
