Chapter 11 - The Moretti Message
The park was supposed to be a safe zone,
a sprawling expanse of green in the heart of the city,
patrolled by my men and monitored by high-definition cameras.
I sat in my downtown office,
the city skyline stretching out before me,
a stark contrast to the quiet peace of my estate,
waiting for the inevitable escalation.
The encrypted phone on my desk buzzed,
a harsh,
jarring sound that cut through the silence,
and I answered it instantly,
my heart rate spiking.
"Boss,
we have a situation,"
the lead guard assigned to Sarah’s detail reported,
his voice tight,
lacking its usual calm professionalism.
"Are they hurt?"
I demanded,
the words tearing from my throat,
the image of Sarah or Ethan bleeding flashing through my mind,
igniting a terrifying rage.
"No,
sir,
they are safe,
they are currently in the armored SUV heading back to the estate,"
the guard replied quickly,
sensing my panic.
"Then what is the situation?"
I asked,
my voice cold,
the relief immediately replaced by a chilling anticipation of the threat.
"A man approached the playground,
sir,
he bypassed the outer perimeter completely,
we didn't even see him until he was standing five feet from Ms. Sarah."
I stood up,
my chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor,
my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turned white.
"Did he touch them?"
I asked,
my voice dropping to a lethal whisper,
already planning the slow,
agonizing death of the man who dared to approach my family.
"No,
Boss,
he just handed her a small box,
smiled,
and walked away before we could intercept,"
the guard explained,
sounding deeply ashamed of his failure.
"I have the box,
we ran it through the scanner,
no explosives,
no chemical agents."
"Bring it to my office,
immediately,"
I ordered,
hanging up the phone,
the silence of the room suddenly suffocating.
Twenty minutes later,
the guard stood in my office,
placing a small,
black velvet box on my desk,
his eyes downcast,
awaiting his punishment.
"You are relieved of duty,
effective immediately,"
I said,
not looking at him,
my eyes fixed on the velvet box,
a symbol of my enemy's reach.
"You let a man get within five feet of my son,
you are lucky you are walking out of this room alive."
He didn't argue,
he just nodded,
turning sharply on his heel and leaving my office,
knowing he had failed the only task that mattered.
I stared at the box for a long time,
my mind calculating the risks,
analyzing the psychological warfare being employed against me.
I put on a pair of black leather gloves,
a precaution born of years in the underworld,
and slowly lifted the lid.
Inside,
resting on white silk,
was a small,
perfectly detailed silver pacifier,
the kind a wealthy family might buy for a newborn.
But it wasn't the pacifier that made my blood run cold,
it was the tiny,
intricate engraving on the silver handle,
a message etched in delicate script.
'For the new prince,
may his reign be short.'
It was a direct threat,
a promise of violence against my fourteen-month-old son,
delivered by the Moretti family,
a declaration of war disguised as a gift.
I picked up the phone,
dialing Marcus’s secure line,
the anger inside me solidifying into a cold,
hard resolve.
"Marcus,"
I said,
my voice steady,
devoid of any emotion,
the voice of a man preparing for absolute destruction.
"Gather the lieutenants,
arm the foot soldiers,
and lock down the estate,
nobody leaves,
nobody enters without my explicit permission."
"What happened,
Boss?"
he asked,
sensing the shift in my demeanor,
the transition from businessman to warlord.
"Moretti just threatened Ethan,"
I stated simply,
staring at the silver pacifier,
May you like
my vision swimming with images of revenge.
"We are going to war."
