Chapter 9 - The Lion AwakensVictor’s eyes bulged in pure, unadulterated horror.
"W-what?!" Victor choked out, trying to pull his arm back, but Giovanni’s grip was like a steel vise.
Five years of trapped fury, five years of calculated patience, and the protective instinct of a father unleashed in a single explosive second. Giovanni twisted Victor’s wrist with brutal precision.
CRACK!
Victor shrieked in agony as his wrist snapped, dropping the gun onto the oriental rug.
Before Victor could react, Giovanni used his momentum, leveraging his weight to stand up from his chair. With a harsh, guttural roar, the old Don shoved Victor backward with all his strength.
Victor crashed heavily against the sharp marble edge of the fireplace mantle, knocking him senseless to the floor, groaning in a pool of his own blood.
Nora stood frozen in absolute shock, her hands dropping the iron poker, her mouth open as she stared at the man she had cared for as a helpless invalid.
Giovanni stood swaying slightly on his feet, breathing heavily, his gray eyes burning with the fire of a king who had reclaimed his throne. He turned his head slowly toward Nora.
For the first time in five years, his vocal cords strained, a deep, gravelly, but unmistakable voice emerging from his throat:
"Thank... you... Nora."
Tears flooded Nora's eyes as she rushed forward, catching Giovanni under his arms as his strength faltered, carefully helping him sit back down into his wheelchair.
A second later, Lorenzo burst through the shattered door, his gun drawn, his chest heaving, blood splattered across his sleeve. He expected to find a tragedy.
Instead, he saw Victor lying unconscious on the floor with a broken wrist, and Nora safely kneeling beside his father.
Lorenzo stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the scene in absolute disbelief. "What happened here?"
"Your... father," Nora sobbed through her tears of relief. "Lorenzo... he saved me. He stood up!"
Lorenzo dropped his gun, dropping to his knees beside his father's chair. He looked up into Giovanni’s eyes, seeing the clear, sharp mind of the man who raised him fully present for the first time in half a decade.
Giovanni reached out his hand, resting it on Lorenzo’s head, just as he had done when Lorenzo was a boy.
"My... son," Giovanni rasped out softly, a faint, proud smile touching his weathered lips. "Clean up... this trash."
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Lorenzo let out a ragged breath, tears slipping down his face as he hugged his father tightly, while Marco moved in to bind the unconscious Victor in heavy chains.
The coup was over. The traitor had fallen. And the true master of the Moretti empire had returned.
