Chapter 5 - INTO THE LION'S DEN
At precisely 8:45 PM, a sleek black armored town car provided by Evelyn’s legal contact pulled up to the iron gates of the Romano Estate in Milton.
The estate was a sprawling, fortress-like mansion surrounded by twelve-foot stone walls, security cameras, and heavily armed men in dark suits patrolling the perimeter with rottweilers.
I sat in the back seat beside Evelyn. I had refused to let her go alone, insisting on coming along as her witness. She wore an elegant, sharp charcoal suit, her dark hair pinned back impeccably. Hidden beneath her lapel was a micro-transmitter linked directly to the State Attorney General’s tactical unit.
The heavy iron gates swung open silently, and our car rolled up the long, winding cobblestone driveway.
When we stepped out at the front portico, Marco Moretti was waiting for us. He smirked as he patted down my handbag, but when he reached for Evelyn, she fixed him with a look so sharp he hesitated, settling for a quick metal-detector sweep.
"The Don is waiting in the dining room," Marco said, gesturing toward the grand double doors. "Mind your manners, ladies."
We stepped inside.
The interior of the mansion was draped in opulent gold leaf, velvet curtains, and marble statues. At the far end of a thirty-foot mahogany dining table sat Vincent Romano—the Godfather of Boston.
He was in his late sixties, with slicked-back gray hair, wearing a dark silk suit. Beside him sat Dante, his eyebrow covered in fresh white bandages, glaring at us with unadulterated venom.
"Dr. Carter," Vincent Romano’s voice rumbled across the room, rich and smooth like aged bourbon. "Welcome to my home. Please, sit."
Evelyn walked down the length of the dining table and pulled out a chair directly opposite Vincent, sitting down with calm elegance. I sat beside her, my heart beating like a jackhammer against my ribs.
"I must admit, doctor," Vincent continued, slicing a piece of rare steak on his porcelain plate. "I expected you to send a lawyer. Or perhaps a trembling resignation letter. I didn't expect you to have the courage to walk into my dining room."
"I am a surgeon, Mr. Romano," Evelyn replied smoothly. "I deal with tumors every day. I don't run from them; I cut them out."
Dante slammed his fist onto the table, making the wine glasses ring. "Watch your mouth, bitch! Dad, tell Marco to take her out back right now!"
"Silence, Dante!" Vincent snapped sharply, not even looking at his son. "You got your lip split by a woman half your size because you acted like a brainless street thug in a public hospital. You embarrassed this family."
Dante bit his lip, turning red with embarrassment, but remained quiet.
Vincent turned his dark eyes back to Evelyn. "However... despite my son's childish behavior, no one publicly humiliates a Romano and continues to practice medicine in this city. You will sign a total retraction of your police statement, hand over any video recordings, and resign from Boston General by midnight. In exchange, I will allow you to leave this state unharmed."
"And if I refuse?" Evelyn asked softly.
Vincent set his silver knife down with a soft clink.
"If you refuse, Dr. Carter, your career is finished. Your friends will suffer. And you will find out that Boston can be a very dangerous place for a lonely woman."
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Evelyn leaned back in her chair, taking a slow sip of ice water.
"It’s interesting you mention dangerous places, Vincent," Evelyn said, her tone dropping into an icy, commanding calm. "Because right now, the most dangerous place in North America is this dining room."
