Chapter 3 - The Council BriefingThe private dining hall of the Moretti estate in River North was an architectural marvel of carved mahogany, stained glass, and centuries-old tradition. The long oak table was flanked by the twelve elders of the Moretti council—men and women whose silver hair and tailored suits concealed decades of ruthless control over Chicago’s underground and legitimate economies.
When the heavy double doors swung open, every conversation ceased instantly.
Nikolai walked in first, his posture radiating absolute, unchallenged authority. But it was the woman walking beside him—step for measured step, chin held high, eyes as cold and brilliant as diamonds—that made the elder councilmen sit up straight.
Julian, sitting near the head of the table with Serena draped across his arm in a glittering white dress, froze mid-sentence.
His fork clattered against his porcelain plate with a sharp, echoing snap.
“Nikolai,” Julian stammered, half-rising from his chair, his face draining of all color. “What is... what are you doing here? And why is she with you?”
Nikolai didn't even look at his younger brother. He pulled out the high-backed velvet chair to his right—the seat reserved for the head of the household’s primary partner—and gestured for me to sit.
I smoothed the dark velvet of my skirt, seated myself with absolute grace, and looked directly across the table at Julian and Serena.
Serena’s mouth was slightly open, her wide, Bambi-like eyes darting between Nikolai and me in sheer disbelief. The engagement ring Julian had stolen from me flashed clumsily on her finger, looking entirely too large for her hand.
“Sit down, Julian,” Nikolai commanded, his voice cutting through the silent room like a razor. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“She’s... she’s Evelyn!” Julian finally choked out, slamming his palms onto the table as he glared at me. “She’s supposed to be heartbroken! What kind of sick game are you playing, Nikolai? You can’t bring her here!”
“Watch your tone when you speak to my wife,” Nikolai replied, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register that made the older councilmen lean back in apprehension.
The word wife hung in the vaulted room like a physical blow.
“Your... your wife?” Serena whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched Julian’s arm. “Evelyn, how could you? That’s Julian’s brother!”
I finally spoke, my voice clear, steady, and carrying the chilling precision of a corporate executive delivering a hostile takeover.
“A wise woman once told me to protect the family reputation,” I said, letting my gaze drift slowly toward Julian and Serena. “I simply decided to marry into a family that actually has one.”
A sharp, barking laugh echoed from the end of the table as Donato Moretti, the eldest patriarch of the council, leaned forward, a crooked grin spreading across his weathered face.
“Well,” Donato rasped, resting his gnarled hands on his cane. “It seems the younger Moretti brother isn't the only one with an eye for acquisitions. Tell me, Mrs. Moretti, what brings you to our table tonight?”
I opened the leather folio Nikolai had handed me earlier, sliding a certified document across the polished mahogany table directly toward the patriarch.
May you like
“I bring thirty-four percent of the commercial real estate voting shares in downtown Chicago,” I said smoothly, meeting Donato’s piercing gaze without a flinch. “Shares previously held by the Hart estate, now consolidated under my personal trust and the Moretti spousal alliance. I believe that makes me a voting member of this council.”
The room erupted into absolute chaos.
