Chapter 4 - The ConfrontationThe master study was dimly lit, illuminated only by the roaring green-and-orange flames in the fireplace. Lorenzo sat behind his desk, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. Marco stood by the door, a silent shadow waiting for orders.
When Mrs. Gable walked into the room, she smoothed her apron and forced an elegant, professional smile. She was completely unaware of what had transpired in the east wing.
"You summoned me, Mr. Moretti?" she asked smoothly. "I hope everything with your suite is to your satisfaction?"
Lorenzo didn't answer immediately. He let the silence stretch, letting the pressure in the room build until Mrs. Gable's smile began to falter.
"Tell me about my father's care, Mrs. Gable," Lorenzo said softly.
"Oh, as I said, sir, it is top-tier!" she gushed, taking a small step forward. "We have dedicated nurses attending to him daily. Fresh meals, proper heating, immaculate surroundings. He wants for nothing."
"Is that so?" Lorenzo leaned back in his leather chair. "Then why did I find him sitting in a freezing room, wrapped in a threadbare rag, being fed leftover broth by a pregnant maid who was terrified you'd fire her for showing him basic human decency?"
Mrs. Gable’s face went instantly pale. The color drained from her cheeks, and her hands began to shake beneath her apron.
"Mr. Moretti... I... you must understand," she stammered, her polished facade shattering. "That girl, Nora—she's a liar! She’s lazy, delusional, and—"
"Nora didn't tell me anything," Lorenzo interrupted, his voice dropping to a terrifying register. "I saw it with my own eyes."
He stood up slowly, towering over her. The sheer presence of the Don filled the room, making Mrs. Gable feel small and defenseless.
"Where are the medical allocation funds I transferred to your account every month for his private care?" Lorenzo asked. "Three hundred thousand dollars a year, Mrs. Gable. Where did that money go?"
"I... I spent it on estate upkeep!" she cried out, her knees trembling. "Prices have risen, sir! The maintenance—"
"Marco," Lorenzo said quietly.
Marco pulled out a thick tablet and tossed it onto the desk. "Her personal bank accounts were flagged two hours ago, Boss. She's been transferring fifty grand a month to an offshore account in the Caymans. She bought a luxury condo in Miami last week."
Mrs. Gable gasped, dropping to her knees on the marble floor. "Please, Mr. Moretti! Mercy! I've served this family for ten years!"
"You didn't serve this family," Lorenzo said coldly. "You abused a sick old man who couldn't speak back, and you stole from my blood."
He walked over to the window, looking out at the raging blizzard outside. "It's twenty degrees below zero out there, Mrs. Gable. The roads are blocked. No cars can get up the cliff."
"Please..." she sobbed, clutching at her apron.
"Stripped of her duties," Lorenzo ordered Marco. "Take her keys. Take her phone. Lock her in the basement storage room until the storm clears. Then she will be handed over to our federal contacts for grand larceny and elder abuse."
"No! Please!" Mrs. Gable screamed as Marco roughly dragged her to her feet and hauled her out of the study. Her shrieks echoed down the long marble corridor before fading into silence.
Lorenzo stood alone in the quiet study, his heart burning with guilt. For five years, he had been so consumed with running the syndicate, fighting rival families, and expanding their corporate empire that he had left his vulnerable father in the hands of monsters.
If it hadn't been for a pregnant twenty-three-year-old maid, his father might have died in that cold room.
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Lorenzo poured himself another glass of bourbon, his mind settling on Nora. He needed to know everything about her.
He picked up his secure phone and dialed his chief intelligence officer. "Find out who Nora is. Her family, her past, her debts. I want a full file on my desk by morning."
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