Chapter 9
The bright, cinematic colors of the patio were now littered with the physical wreckage of Emily’s vengeance. To her left, her treacherous husband lay bleeding beneath the collapsed grill station. To her right, his mistress was buried under a mountain of ruined, expensive baby gifts, choking on pastel tissue paper.
The white American capos, bodyguards, and family members stood in a wide semicircle, completely paralyzed by the sheer, undeniable dominance of Emily Moretti. They had witnessed a hostile takeover executed in less than three minutes without a single bullet being fired. The natural, flawless lighting cast long, dramatic shadows across the patio, illuminating Emily as the undisputed victor.
Emily smoothed the front of her tailored dark travel suit. She adjusted the heavy family signet ring on her finger. She did not look at the bleeding traitors. Her entire focus returned to the small, filthy boy chained to the doghouse.
She dropped to her knees, pulling a small, heavy tactical knife from the concealed sheath at her ankle. With terrifying precision, she wedged the thick steel blade into the locking mechanism of the cheap padlock securing the chain. She applied a brutal, leveraged force. The lock snapped open with a loud, metallic crack.
Emily removed the chain completely, throwing the heavy metal links aside in disgust.
She reached out and pulled Ethan safely into her arms. She ignored the dirt, the smell, and the grime, crushing him against her chest in a desperate, fierce embrace. Ethan wrapped his thin arms around her neck, burying his face in her shoulder, finally letting out a long, shuddering sob of relief.
"I've got you, my sweet boy," Emily murmured into his ear, rocking him gently. "You are never going to wear these clothes again. You are never going to be cold again. Mommy is here."
She stood up slowly, lifting the six-year-old effortlessly into her arms. He felt painfully light, a testament to the starvation diet they had subjected him to. She held him securely against her hip, resting her hand protectively on his back.
She slowly turned her head, her cold, sharp, intimidating eyes sweeping over the carnage she had created.
Patricia Moretti stepped forward, trembling violently, her pearl jewelry rattling. "Emily... what have you done? You destroyed our family. The Commission will hear of this."
May you like
"The Commission answers to me," Emily stated, her American accent cutting through the air with absolute, lethal authority. "And this family was destroyed the moment you allowed my son to be treated like an animal."
She looked down at Ryan, who was struggling to push a metal mixing bowl off his chest, and then over to Natalie, who was frozen in terror beneath the collapsed gifts.
