Chapter 5 - Under the Boss's Wing
Within two minutes, the heavy oak doors swung open once more. Two tall, stone-faced security guards dressed in dark suits entered the room without uttering a single word. They showed no surprise at the bloody scene on the floor. With practiced, mechanical efficiency, they hauled the groaning, half-conscious body of Rocco Marciano off the slate tiles and dragged him out into the dark corridor, closing the heavy doors behind them.
The kitchen returned to its silent state.
The only evidence of the violence was a dark smear of blood on the granite island and a few drops on the white tile floor.
Ivy sat frozen on her wooden stool in the corner, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her entire body was trembling so violently that she could barely hold the bloodied handkerchief against her throat. She had known Carmine Moretti was a dangerous, powerful man, but seeing his lethal efficiency executed inches from her face was a terrifying realization.
Carmine walked calmly over to the counter, picked up his glass of amber liquor, and took a slow, final sip. Then, he picked up a clean dish towel, wiped down the small smear of blood from the granite, and tossed the towel into the sink.
He turned toward Ivy.
The terrifying rage that had consumed him moments ago had completely vanished. His expression was once again cool, controlled, and composed—the unreadable mask of a king.
He walked over to her corner and stopped a few feet away.
"You can put your feet down now, Ivy," he said gently.
Ivy swallowed hard, slowly lowering her legs to the floor, but her gaze remained locked on his white dress shirt, terrified to meet his eyes.
"Is he... is he going to..." she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Rocco will never step foot on this property again," Carmine replied smoothly, leaving the darker reality of Rocco's ultimate fate unsaid. "And he will never touch you, or anyone else, ever again. That situation has been permanently resolved."
Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, a torrent of hot, silent tears escaping down her bruised cheeks. The overwhelming rush of sheer relief, mixed with lingering terror and physical exhaustion, proved too much to bear.
Carmine stepped closer. He didn't reach for her jaw this time. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick, unmarked Manila envelope, and tossed it onto the small table beside her.
Ivy blinked through her tears, looking down at the heavy envelope. "What... what is this?"
"Fifty thousand dollars," Carmine said casually, as if mentioning the price of a cup of coffee. "Cash."
Ivy’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes flew up to meet his sharp grey gaze. "Mr. Moretti... I... I can't take this. I can't accept money from you."
"That is not a gift, Ivy," Carmine stated, his baritone voice firm and unyielding. "That is your back pay, along with an advance for your new position."
Ivy blinked, completely bewildered. "My... my new position?"
"Starting tomorrow morning, you no longer work in the basement," Carmine declared, taking a slow step toward the exit. "You will no longer scrub floors, you will no longer take out trash in dark alleys, and you will no longer hide in the dark."
He paused at the door, turning his head slightly to look back at her over his shoulder.
"You have a sharp eye, you keep your mouth shut under pressure, and you have survived circumstances that would break most men in my organization. Tomorrow at eight o'clock, you will present yourself to my personal assistant on the third floor. You will be trained to manage my private estate accounts."
Ivy sat frozen, her mouth slightly open, completely stunned by the sudden, terrifying shift in her destiny. "Sir... I don't know anything about managing accounts..."
"You will learn," Carmine said smoothly. "And you will wear a proper suit, not a servant's uniform."
He reached for the heavy brass handle of the oak door, unlocking the deadbolt with a soft, decisive click.
"Mr. Moretti?" Ivy called out softly, her trembling voice stopping him in the doorway.
Carmine paused, looking back at her.
"Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper in the vast, quiet kitchen. "Why would you do all of this for a maid?"
Carmine studied her bruised face for a long, quiet moment. A faint, unreadable shadow moved across his grey eyes.
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"Because in my world, Ivy," Carmine said quietly, "loyalty and resilience are far too rare to be wasted on washing dishes. Get some rest. The doctor will be up to your room in twenty minutes to tend to your face."
Without waiting for a response, Carmine Moretti stepped through the doorway and vanished into the quiet corridors of his fortress, leaving Ivy alone in the immaculate kitchen—no longer an invisible ghost in the shadows, but a protected asset under the wing of the city's most dangerous sovereign.
