Chapter 9
The name hung in the bright, cinematic air of the suite like a toxic cloud. Carlo Rossi was one of Adrian’s most senior and trusted capos, a man who had served the Moretti family since Adrian’s father was in power. He controlled the lucrative eastern shipping ports and commanded a significant portion of the family’s soldiers.
Linda gasped from the bedside. Even the Charge Nurse, who was gently wiping the last of the dark pigment from the baby’s fair skin, paused her movements, understanding the gravity of the Mafia politics spilling out into her ward.
Adrian slowly stood up from the chair. His expression did not change. The deeply masculine, intimidating aura around him seemed to dense, coalescing into a freezing, impenetrable armor.
"Carlo Rossi," Adrian repeated slowly, his American accent crisp and measured.
"He came to me a month ago," Margaret wept, her manicured hands covering her face. "He brought me photographs, Adrian. Bank statements. He said Emma was transferring money to an account in another state. He said she was meeting with a man from a rival family. He told me the baby wasn't yours, and that if you had a bastard heir, the other families would view you as weak and challenge your territory!"
"And you believed him," Adrian said softly.
"He had proof!" Margaret cried, looking up desperately. "He showed me the documents! I was trying to protect the Moretti legacy! Carlo said if I staged a scene, if I made it obvious the child wasn't yours in front of the nurses, you would be forced a paternity test. You would be forced to disown her without losing face!"
"Carlo Rossi does not care about my legacy," Adrian whispered, turning his back on his mother to walk toward the window. He stared out into the bright daylight, his sharp jawline tight. "Carlo Rossi cares about the succession. If I have no heir, and if I execute my wife for treason, my power base fractures. The eastern capos would rally behind him to stabilize the family. He wasn't helping you expose a lie, Mother. He was using you to initiate a coup."
"No," Margaret gasped, shaking her head. "Carlo wouldn't do that. He was your father's friend."
"My father is dead," Adrian stated coldly, turning back around. "And Carlo cut my son's identification bracelet."
The horrific realization finally clicked in Margaret's mind. "He... he was going to take the baby?"
"While you were busy screaming and causing a distraction," Adrian deduced, his voice completely devoid of emotion, "one of Carlo's men, dressed as a doctor or a nurse, would have slipped into the room during the chaos. They would have taken the baby under the pretense of a medical emergency. By the time the dust settled, my son would be gone. And Carlo would have the ultimate leverage over me."
Emma let out a terrified cry from the bed, reaching her arms out. "Adrian, please! Don't let them near him!"
The Charge Nurse immediately walked over, placing the now perfectly clean, fair, and rosy newborn into Emma’s desperate arms. Emma pulled the baby tight against her chest, crying silently into the soft white hospital blanket.
Adrian walked over to his wife and child. He reached out with his large hand, gently stroking the baby’s soft, clean cheek. The contrast between the cold, lethal Mafia Boss and the tender, protective father was stark and absolute.
"They failed," Adrian murmured softly, looking down at his son. "And because they failed, they are going to die."
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He pulled his secure, encrypted cell phone from the inner pocket of his tailored dark suit.
"It's time to clean house," Adrian whispered.
