Chapter 7
Bianca’s chest heaved in frantic, shallow breaths. The bright sunlight caught the tears streaming down her face, ruining her perfect makeup. She looked at her father, Victor, who was still slumped on the sleeper chair, too terrified to speak. She looked at her brother, Julian, who was being held up by the bodyguards, his face a bruised and bloody mess. Neither man offered her any help. They had thrown her to the wolf.
“It… it was the Moretti family,” Bianca finally choked out, her entire body shaking.
Sofia gasped from the hospital bed. Even Nurse Claire, oblivious to the intricacies of the underworld, recognized the terror associated with that name. The Moretti syndicate was the oldest, most ruthless rival to the Ravelli empire.
Lorenzo did not react physically, but his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “The Moretti family. Go on.”
“My husband,” Bianca wept, burying her face in her hands. “My husband owes them millions, Lorenzo. We invested in a shipping route that collapsed. Don Moretti told us that if we didn't pay the debt by the end of the month, they were going to kill us.”
“And how does my grandson settle your shipping debt?” Lorenzo asked, his voice so cold it could freeze water.
“Moretti is obsessed with the bloodline!” Bianca cried out, dropping her hands to reveal her terrified, rosy face. “He said he wanted a Ravelli. He said if we brought him one of the newborn boys, he would raise the child as his own. He wanted to breed a true heir that carried both names, someone who could unite the families and usurp your throne in twenty years!”
Lorenzo stared at her, absorbing the absolute depravity of the plot. They had planned to sell his grandson to a rival Mafia boss to pay off a gambling debt. They had used Sofia’s vulnerable postpartum state, weaponized Julian’s position as a husband, and orchestrated a kidnapping right under his nose.
“And Moretti is waiting downstairs?” Lorenzo asked calmly.
“His lieutenant is,” Julian rasped from the center of the room, desperate to buy back some shred of favor. “Silvio. He’s in a black SUV in the underground parking garage. He was waiting for me to bring the child down. He… he gave us an hour.”
Lorenzo turned his back on Bianca and walked over to his daughter’s bed. He looked down at Sofia. Her beautiful, rosy face was hardened now, the naive love she had held for Julian entirely replaced by the cold, calculating reality of the world she had been born into.
“Did you know, Sofia?” Lorenzo asked gently.
“No, Dad,” Sofia whispered, her voice tight with betrayal and newfound hatred as she glared at Julian. “I thought he loved me. I thought this was real.”
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“Nothing they do is real, my darling,” Lorenzo said, kissing her forehead. He turned back to the room, the movie-star charm entirely gone, replaced by the monster he kept caged for occasions exactly like this.
“Take Julian’s phone,” Lorenzo ordered his bodyguards.
