Chapter 13
The following morning, the bright, natural sunlight poured into the penthouse, illuminating a space that felt entirely safe and impenetrable. Ethan was awake, sitting at the massive glass dining table, eating a towering plate of pancakes. His fair, rosy cheeks were beginning to show the faintest hint of healthy color. Emily sat beside him, wearing a fresh, tailored white suit that highlighted her movie-star beauty.
"Is it good, baby?" Emily asked gently, stroking his soft hair.
"It's really good, Mom," Ethan smiled, his bright blue eyes looking up at her with profound, unadulterated trust.
The heavy mahogany doors of the living area opened, and Marcus stepped inside. The capo looked tense. "Boss, we have a situation. Patricia managed to bypass the estate jammers using an old analog landline in the servant's quarters. She contacted the National Commission in New York. She told them you executed a hostile coup and destabilized the Chicago alliance."
Emily’s sharply defined jawline tightened. The National Commission was a gathering of the most powerful, ruthless Mafia bosses in the country. They abhorred instability, and Patricia had just painted Emily as a rogue operative.
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"The Commission is demanding an emergency sit-down," Marcus continued, his American accent laced with warning. "They want you to present yourself at the Grand Continental Hotel at noon. If you refuse, they will sanction a hit on our organization."
"I am not refusing," Emily whispered, a dark, terrifying smile touching her lips. "Prepare the convoy, Marcus. We are going to show the old men exactly who bled for this empire."
