Chapter 9 - Judgment in the Cellar
The iron cellar beneath the DeLuca mansion was cold, damp, and lit only by bare tungsten bulbs swinging from the ceiling.
Tied securely to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room was Victor Moretti. His face was swollen, his designer suit torn and filthy. Standing around the perimeter of the room in tense silence were the heads of the five New York families—hard-faced men who smelled of expensive cigars and cold gunpowder. They had been brought in under heavy guard, confused and simmering with anger at being summoned like foot soldiers.
"Lorenzo has lost his mind!" Victor rasped, spitting blood onto the concrete. "He locks us in his house! He accuses me—me, who built this family alongside his father! You going to let this boy disrespect us like this?"
The heavy iron door swung open.
A dead hush fell over the room.
Lorenzo entered. He was dressed in a clean, pristine charcoal-three-piece suit. But he wasn't alone. In his arms, swaddled in a clean white blanket, was the baby. Clara walked behind him, holding little Emma by the hand, protected by four armed guards.
The Capos gasped. One of the older bosses, Don Carmine, crossed himself in shock. "Mother of God... Lorenzo, is that...?"
"This is Giulia Elena DeLuca," Lorenzo announced, his voice echoing off the damp concrete walls with absolute finality. "My daughter. The daughter who was supposed to have burned to ashes in St. Jude’s hospital eight months ago."
Victor’s face drained of every ounce of color. His jaw worked, but no words came out.
Lorenzo walked slowly toward Victor, stopping three feet away. "You told me you wept with me, Victor. You stood by my side while I lowered two empty caskets into the ground. You held my arm while I threw dirt upon their graves."
"Lorenzo... listen to me..." Victor stammered, terror finally cracking through his arrogant facade. "I did it to protect the family! Elena was making you soft! You were talking about leaving the business, going legitimate! The Commission would have torn us apart! I kept the baby alive—I didn't kill her! I spared her!"
"You didn't spare her," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a register of icy, terrifying calm. "You kept her as leverage. A hostage against my throat for the rest of my days."
Lorenzo turned to the Capos. "Victor Moretti orchestrated the bombing of a maternity ward. He broke the sacred law of the Commission: wives and children are untouchable."
Don Carmine stepped forward, his eyes burning with disgust as he looked at Victor. "He broke the law. The punishment is death. The Commission stands with Don DeLuca."
The other bosses nodded in grim, unanimous agreement.
Lorenzo leaned down until his eyes were level with Victor’s. "You will never see the sunrise. You will never have a grave. And the last thing you will ever know is that my daughter will grow up in the light of the empire you tried to steal."
Lorenzo didn’t pull the trigger himself. A man holding his daughter does not stain his hands with garbage.
He handed Giulia gently to Clara, stepped back, and gave Marco a single, imperceptible nod.
"Take Clara, Emma, and Giulia upstairs," Lorenzo commanded softly. "It’s time to clean the house."
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As the iron door closed behind them, muffling the sudden, sharp crack of a gunshot, Lorenzo let out a long, slow breath. The ghost of his past had finally been laid to rest.
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