Chapter 7
The bright, cinematic colors of the garden—the stark white of the collapsed canopy, the vibrant green of the grass, the deep navy of Serafina’s suit—provided a surreal, high-definition backdrop for the shifting power dynamics of the estate.
Nolan groaned, pushing himself up from beneath the pile of scattered folding chairs. His fair face was a mess of swelling bruises and blood. He clutched his broken jaw, his eyes darting frantically around the lawn. He saw his father, Victor, gasping weakly against the padded garden bench, completely incapacitated.
"What are you all doing?!" Nolan screamed, his American accent slurring heavily through his damaged jaw. He looked wildly at the several dozen family men, associates, and bodyguards who were standing motionless around the patio. "Don't just stand there! Take her down! She assaulted the senior patriarch! Restrain her!"
Several of the family men, older associates who had been loyal to Victor’s faction for years, exchanged nervous, hesitant glances. They began to take slow, uncertain steps toward Serafina, their hands drifting toward their suit jackets where their weapons were concealed.
"That's right," Nolan encouraged, spitting blood onto the grass, struggling to his knees. "Take her. We're ending this right now. The family is taking back control."
Serafina did not move a muscle. She did not reach for a weapon. She simply stood her ground, her hands resting easily at her sides, her cold eyes watching the advancing men with a look of mild, disappointed amusement.
Before the older family men could close the distance, a sudden, synchronized movement rippled through the garden.
The Capos—the highly trained, heavily armed strike leaders who actually controlled the soldiers and the streets—stepped forward in unison. Dressed in immaculate, dark suits, these formidable white American men moved with terrifying precision. But they did not move toward Serafina to restrain her.
Instead, they moved past the advancing family men, physically bumping them out of the way. In a profound, chilling display of absolute loyalty, the Capos silently stepped directly behind Serafina. They formed an impenetrable, human wall of muscle and firepower at her back, their hands resting openly on the grips of their holstered firearms.
The older family men who had stepped forward instantly froze, realizing they were hopelessly outgunned and outmaneuvered. They slowly backed away, raising their hands in surrender.
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Nolan watched the scene unfold with wide, disbelieving eyes. The men he thought he could command, the soldiers he assumed resented taking orders from a woman, were standing ready to die for her.
"What is this?" Nolan asked, his chest heaving, his voice breathless and cracking with panic. He looked from the stone-faced Capos to Serafina, completely bewildered. "Why are they protecting you? You're just... you're just the accountant!"
