Chapter 10 - The Italian Syndicate Arrives
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Three days later, the Moretti estate hosted the most critical assembly in its forty-year history.
The transatlantic shipping audit was scheduled for noon in the grand reception gallery.
Seated at the long conference table were seven high-ranking emissaries from Rome, headed by Carlo Vitale.
These men were the old-world royalty of the Italian trade syndicate, men who valued lineage, honor, and ancient traditions.
Luca sat at the head of the table, flanked by Michael and his senior financial advisors.
I sat directly at Luca’s right hand, dressed in an elegant tailored charcoal dress, a gold fountain pen resting on my legal notepad.
Carlo Vitale cleared his throat, opening a velvet-lined folio filled with official trade agreements.
“Signor Moretti,” Carlo began in Italian.
“We have reviewed your claims regarding the West Loop transit easements and the municipal dock concessions.”
“However, earlier this morning, our delegation received an urgent dispatch from Antonio Bellini.”
Carlo held up a document bearing an ornate corporate wax seal.
“Signor Bellini claims that the Moretti family is in breach of their transatlantic partnership charter.”
“He alleges that you dismissed his daughter and broke the family alliance based on the fabricated testimony of an unqualified domestic servant.”
Murmurs broke out among the Roman delegates, several of them casting skeptical glances in my direction.
Luca’s jaw set into stone, his hands flat against the table.
Before Luca could speak, the double doors of the gallery swung open with theatrical arrogance.
Vanessa Bellini strode into the room, dressed in a sharp black designer dress, accompanied by her father and their senior attorney.
“Pardon the interruption, gentlemen,” Antonio Bellini announced, walking boldly toward the center of the hall.
“We are here to present the formal petition to strip the Moretti syndicate of its Roman trade accreditation.”
Vanessa looked at me with a smirk dripping with venomous triumph.
“The Roman council does not accept the testimony of common housemaids who barely speak their own language,” Vanessa sneered.
“Emily Carter is a fraud who fabricated those translations to extract money from an impressionable crime boss.”
The Roman delegates looked increasingly troubled, whispering among themselves in rapid, low tones.
I slowly stood up from my chair.
The room fell silent as fifty eyes focused entirely on me.
I looked directly at Carlo Vitale, taking a calm, steady breath.
Then, I began to speak in flawless, aristocratic Neapolitan Italian, the dialect spoken by the founding families of Southern Italy.
“Signor Vitale, con tutto il dovuto rispetto per il consiglio, permettetemi di rispondere.”
Every single Italian delegate froze in their seats, their eyes widening in utter astonishment.
I picked up the document Antonio Bellini had submitted and held it up to the daylight streaming through the chandelier.
“This document claims to be an authentic trade amendment signed in Rome three weeks ago,” I continued in rapid, melodic Italian.
“However, the notary watermark belongs to the Milanese municipal district, not Rome.”
“Furthermore, the legal phrasing uses the modern corporate civil code of 1998, which is strictly prohibited under the 1942 Syndicate Charter of Naples.”
I turned my gaze directly onto Vanessa and Antonio, my voice ringing clear and authoritative through the cavernous hall.
“This document is a crude forgery, manufactured by Bellini Logistics to conceal the fact that they have been siphoning Roman customs tariffs into private Swiss accounts for fourteen months.”
Carlo Vitale snatched the document from the table, holding it up to the light to examine the watermark.
His weathered face flushed with sudden, volcanic fury.
Carlo slammed his fist onto the mahogany table with enough force to rattle the crystal water glasses.
“Basta!” Carlo bellowed in Italian, turning on Antonio Bellini like an enraged lion.
“You dare come before the Roman council with forged papers?”
“You dare attempt to dishonor the legacy of Matteo Moretti with cheap corporate lies?”
Vanessa stepped backward, her smirk completely shattering into a mask of pure terror.
“Carlo... please, listen to me—” Antonio pleaded, his hands shaking violently.
“Silence!” Carlo roared, standing tall and pointing a trembling finger toward the exit.
“The Bellini family is permanently blacklisted from every port, bank, and trade route across the entire Mediterranean basin!”
“Your assets in Italy are frozen as of this second!”
Luca slowly rose from his seat, looking at the trembling Bellinis with cold, absolute finality.
“Dante,” Luca commanded softly.
“Remove this trash from my home.”
As Vanessa was dragged backward through the double doors, her eyes locked with mine.
May you like
I did not sneer, and I did not boast.
I simply stood tall beside Luca, knowing that the days of her looking down on me were over forever.
