Chapter 6 - The Betrayal WithinThe following afternoon, the mansion was unusually quiet. Michael had been called away on urgent business regarding the docks in Brooklyn, and Zach was upstairs taking a nap with his nanny.
I was sitting in the conservatory, sipping chamomile tea and reading a book on art history, when the heavy oak doors of the foyer creaked open.
Footsteps clicked sharply against the marble entryway—heavy, hurried, and unmistakably furious.
“Aurora!”
I froze. That voice wasn't Michael’s. It wasn't a servant’s.
It was Elena.
I set my teacup down and stood up as Elena marched into the conservatory. She looked completely unhinged; her designer suit was slightly wrinkled, her blonde hair was slightly out of place, and her eyes burned with a manic, desperate gleam.
“You think you’ve won, don't you?” Elena spat, standing right in front of me, trembling with rage. “You think because Michael humiliated Rossi to protect your little whore reputation that you’re actually part of this family?”
I kept my voice calm, refusing to let her see me shake. “Elena, if you have a death wish, keep talking to me like that. Remember what Michael said.”
“Michael isn't here!” Elena laughed shrilly. “And by the time he gets back, you won't matter anymore.”
Before I could react, Elena whipped out her phone, tapped the screen, and shoved it directly into my face.
My breath caught. My heart stopped beating entirely.
It was a photograph. Taken secretly inside the master suite.
It showed me—fast asleep in bed last night, with Michael leaning over me, his face inches from mine, looking like a devoted, protective partner.
“What is this?” I whispered, staring at the screen in horror.
“Proof,” Elena smiled triumphantly, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Proof that our precious, untouchable Michael Moretti has violated the cardinal rule of the syndicate. He has allowed a civilian—a penniless nobody with criminal connections—to compromise his empire. I sent that photo to the Commission an hour ago.”
The room spun around me. The Commission. The ruling council of elders and capos who controlled the entire East Coast underworld. If they believed Michael was compromised, weak, or distracted by a woman, they wouldn't just strip him of his power—they would try to execute him.
“You insane bitch!” I yelled, all my fear turning into blind, furious rage. “You could get your own brother killed!”
“My brother is building a dynasty, not running a daycare for charity cases!” Elena snarled back, stepping closer. “And you are the cancer eating it from the inside out. But don't worry—you won't have to watch him fall. Tony Marcone’s remaining enforcers are outside right now. They paid me a very generous sum for the security codes to the side gate.”
Blood rushed in my ears.
Traitor. Elena had sold us out to the very people who had tried to destroy me in Brooklyn.
Before I could even process the full horror of her betrayal, the sound of breaking glass echoed from the foyer. Shouts rang out. Heavy boots thudded against the hardwood floor.
Elena’s face twisted into a victorious grin. “They’re here.”
Without a second thought, fueled by pure adrenaline and maternal protective instinct for Zach upstairs, I grabbed the heavy porcelain teapot off the table and slammed it directly across Elena’s jaw.
May you like
She let out a sharp cry of shock, collapsing backward onto the marble floor, unconscious before she even hit the ground.
I didn't look back. I grabbed my phone, bolted out of the conservatory toward the grand staircase, and sprinted upward to save my new family.
