Chapter 7 - The Poisoned Glass
By the fifth week of her contract, the tension within the Rossi organization reached a boiling point. Rival families from New Jersey were encroaching on South Philadelphia territory, and rumors of a high-level informant inside Gabriel’s inner circle were growing louder.
Despite the danger, Sadie found herself falling into a dangerous, electric rhythm with Gabriel. Late at night, after the club closed, they would sit together in his private penthouse, sharing quiet meals, talking not of crime or blood, but of books, history, and the simple lives they had both lost long ago.
She learned that Gabriel had not chosen this life; he had inherited it at twenty-two when his father and older brother were murdered in a hit. He had spent fourteen years consolidating power, surviving betrayals, and carrying the weight of hundreds of lives on his shoulders.
On a rainy Thursday night, the Belvedere hosted a private sit-down between Gabriel and Don Carmine Lucchesi—the head of the visiting New Jersey family.
The meeting took place in the private dining cellar beneath the hotel. Only six people were present: Gabriel, Sadie, Marco, Don Carmine, and Carmine’s two bodyguards.
Sadie personally poured the vintage Italian wine into crystal goblets, setting them before the two bosses.
“To long-term peace in the tri-state area,” Don Carmine said, lifting his glass, his heavy face smiling warmly.
Gabriel lifted his glass, holding it near his lips.
Sadie’s eyes flicked across the table. She caught Marco’s reflection in the dark glass paneling behind Carmine. Marco was staring at Gabriel’s glass with a intense, nervous focus, his fingers subtly twitching against his thigh.
Sadie’s mind flashed back to her years at The Rusted Anchor—watching shifty patrons, noticing the small, nervous twitches of men about to pull a knife or slip something into a drink.
Gabriel brought the glass to his mouth.
“Gabriel, stop!” Sadie shouted, stepping forward and striking his forearm with her hand.
The crystal glass slipped from Gabriel’s fingers, crashing onto the stone floor. The deep red wine splashed across the white marble tile, sizzling faintly as it touched the air—tainted with a lethal dose of concentrated potassium cyanide.
Don Carmine gasped, scrambling backward out of his chair.
Gabriel’s bodyguards instantly drew their suppressed firearms, aiming straight at Carmine’s men.
Gabriel didn't flinch. He stood up slowly, looking down at the sizzling liquid on the floor, then turned his terrifying gray eyes toward Marco.
“Marco,” Gabriel said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. “You always were too impatient.”
Marco’s face went chalk-white. He reached for his shoulder holster, but before his hand could clear his jacket, Gabriel drew a dark silver pistol from his suit and fired a single shot.
The bullet struck Marco squarely in the shoulder, knocking him violently against the brick wall. He collapsed onto the floor, groaning in pain, clutching his bleeding arm.
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“Secure Carmine and his men,” Gabriel commanded his guards smoothly. “They will stay in the holding suites downstairs until I decide their fate.”
Within thirty seconds, the cellar was cleared, leaving only Gabriel, Sadie, and the bleeding underboss on the floor.
