Chapter 5 - The Heir to the EstateDawn broke over the Atlantic, painting the New Jersey coastline in brilliant streaks of gold and bruised purple.
Lorenzo stood on the balcony of his study, holding a cup of black coffee. The storm had passed, both literally and figuratively. Uncle Vittorio was locked away in a high-security holding facility awaiting trial by syndicate tribunal, and the Falcone family had already sent word through back channels that their proposed expansion was permanently canceled.
A soft rustling sound came from behind him.
Lorenzo turned.
The little girl stood in the doorway of the study, wearing his oversized cashmere coat like a floor-length robe. Her dark curls were wild, and she dragged the battered velvet fox behind her by its unbent ear.
She blinked against the morning light, then spotted Lorenzo standing by the glass doors.
"Renzo?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her small hand.
Lorenzo felt a strange, unfamiliar ache expand in his chest—a wall he had built around his heart three years ago when Matteo died suddenly cracking open. He set his coffee cup down, walked across the hardwood floor, and knelt down to her eye level.
"Good morning," Lorenzo said, his voice softer than it had been with any living person in a decade.
The little girl tilted her head, studying his face just as she had the night before. Then, she threw her small arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.
Elena stepped out from the hallway, looking hesitant and uncertain, her hands clasped tightly together. "Mr. Moretti... I... I suppose I should pack our things now that—"
"Pack what?" Lorenzo interrupted, standing up while keeping the child securely in his arms. He looked at the young mother with a gaze that brooked no argument. "You have nowhere to go, Mrs. Vance. And neither does she."
Elena stared at him, stunned. "Sir?"
"Your husband died protecting the integrity of this family," Lorenzo said, his tone firm, authoritative, and utterly absolute. "That makes you a Moretti by blood or by debt. From this day forward, your daughter stays under my roof. And she calls me whatever she pleases."
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The little girl looked up, a bright, gap-toothed smile spreading across her face. "Up, Renzo!"
Lorenzo Moretti, the most feared syndicate boss on the East Coast, smiled for the first time in three years.
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