Chapter 6 - The Weight of the Crown
Z
I looked down at the woman who had once been my wife. Three years ago, I would have killed anyone who crossed me without a second thought. My father’s blood ran hot in my veins—the blood of men who answered betrayal with gunpowder and fire.
But as Mateo’s breathing slowed against my neck, his little heart beating steady and strong against mine, I felt the heavy weight of the choice sitting before me.
"No, Sofia," I said quietly, looking down at her crumpled form. "I’m not going to kill you."
Sofia blinked, tears dripping onto the pristine white silk of her dress. "You... you aren't?"
"Killing you would be easy," I said, my voice hard as ice. "It would give you a fast end. It would let you play the martyr in your own twisted tragic story. I am going to give you something much worse. I am going to give you exactly what you asked for."
I stepped back, motioning to Dominic.
"You wanted a life away from the Moretti name," I continued, staring at her with cold contempt. "You wanted to live in isolation, away from my world. So be it. You will stay in this villa. You will never set foot in America again. The doors will be guarded by my men day and night. You will have money, you will have food, and you will have this view."
"Marco... please..." Sofia wept, reaching out to clutch at my pant leg. "Don't do this! Don't take my son from me forever! Let me see him! Let me be his mother!"
I pulled my leg away from her grip. "You stopped being his mother the day you buried an empty box in the ground and forced me to drop dirt over it. You deadened your right to him, Sofia."
"Dominic," I commanded, turning my back on her. "Ensure the local authorities understand that Mrs. Moretti is under permanent estate custody. If she tries to leave the perimeter, detain her."
"Understood, Boss," Dominic replied, stepping between Sofia and us, his massive frame blocking her view as Elena and I walked away.
Sofia’s desperate, heart-wrenching screams echoed down the marble hallways of the villa as we descended the stairs toward the driveway. She called my name, she called Mateo’s name, her voice shattering against the stone walls until the heavy wooden front doors clicked shut, severing her from our lives forever.
Outside, a sleek black helicopter was waiting on the private pad near the cliffside, its rotors spinning slowly in the morning air.
Elena walked beside me, her hands folded tightly in front of her. "Are you sure about this, Marco? Leaving her there?"
"She chose her cage three years ago," I said, holding Mateo securely as we approached the aircraft. "I’m just locking the door."
We boarded the helicopter. As the machine lifted off the ground, rising high above the dramatic cliffs of Amalfi, I looked down through the window. Below us, the white marble villa looked tiny, surrounded by the endless, lonely expanse of the deep blue sea.
Mateo looked out the window, his eyes wide with wonder as the ground fell away. "Fly!" he giggled, pointing his chubby finger at the clouds.
I smiled—a real, genuine smile that felt completely foreign on my face after years of darkness. "Yes, buddy. We’re flying."
Elena looked at me, a soft, tentative expression on her face. "Where are we going now?"
"Home," I said simply. "Back to New York. But things are going to change."
"Change how?" she asked.
I looked down at my hands—hands that had built an empire on fear, intimidation, and blood. For three years, I believed that maintaining my father’s dark legacy was the only way to honor what I had lost. But I hadn't lost my son. God had given him back to me. And I refused to let him grow up in a house built on graves.
"The Moretti family is getting out of the shadows," I declared, my voice echoing firmly over the sound of the helicopter blades. "The gambling dens, the smuggling, the street wars—it ends now. Dominic and I will legitimate the entire enterprise. It will take time, and it will take a fight with the other families in New York, but I will build something clean for him."
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Elena studied my face, seeing the fierce determination in my eyes. "It won't be easy, Marco. The other syndicates won't just let you step away."
"Then they can try to stop me," I replied coldly. "They will learn very quickly that a man fighting for his son’s future is far more dangerous than a man fighting for revenge."
