Chapter 5 - The Betrayal of the Commission
The Astoria safehouse was a massive, brick mansion hidden behind ten-foot stone walls and a row of dense weeping willows along the East River. By 6:00 a.m., the house had been converted into a high-tech command post. Six armed guards patrolled the perimeter with tracking dogs, while a temporary medical suite had been set up in the master bedroom for Daniel.
Elena sat in the large, mahogany-paneled kitchen, her daughter Sofia asleep with her head in her lap. Sofia was a beautiful little girl with long dark hair, wearing a oversized Moretti security t-shirt over her pajamas. Elena’s sister, Maria, sat across from them, her hands shaking as she sipped sweet tea that one of Gabriel’s Italian chefs had made for her.
The door opened, and Gabriel stepped inside. He had changed his clothes, now wearing a simple black cashmere sweater and dark trousers, but the scent of gunpowder still lingered around him like a dark aura.
"Elena," Gabriel said, stepping toward the table.
Elena instinctively started to stand, but Gabriel raised a hand, stopping her.
"Sit down, please," he said. He reached into his pocket and placed a set of keys and a legal document on the table before her. "The address is 142 East 73rd Street. It’s a brownstone near Central Park. The title has been transferred to a private trust under your daughter’s name. It’s yours. Legally, permanently."
Elena stared at the keys, her mouth opening slightly. "I... I can't accept this. I didn't do it for a house."
"I know you didn't," Gabriel said, sitting down in the chair across from her. "That’s why you’re getting it. If you had asked for money, I would have given you a check and forgotten your name. But you fought for my son when you thought I was your enemy. In my world, that makes you family. And the Moretti family protects its own."
Before Elena could answer, Vincent Kane walked into the kitchen, his arm wrapped in a white medical bandage, his face pale and grim.
"Gabriel," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a tense whisper. "We have a problem. The security logs from Lenox Hill just came back from our digital team. The key card used to deactivate the pediatric floor elevators five minutes before the attack... it didn't belong to a hospital worker."
Gabriel stood up, his jaw tightening. "Whose card was it?"
"It belonged to the private security firm we hired to monitor the building," Vincent said, looking down at the floor. "The firm owned by your cousin, Anthony."
The kitchen went dead silent. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a rhythmic hammer hitting stone.
Anthony Moretti was Gabriel’s first cousin, the man who managed the family’s legal transport businesses and supervised the security details for all the high-ranking members of the organization. If Anthony’s firm had deactivated the elevators, it meant the hit wasn't just an external attack by the Marcone family.
It was an inside job.
"Anthony," Gabriel whispered, the name tasting like poison in his mouth.
"He’s currently at the private club on Mulberry Street," Vincent said, checking his watch. "He’s called an emergency meeting of the underbosses for 9:00 a.m., claiming that you’ve gone missing after an unstable emotional breakdown regarding your son’s health. He’s moving to take the chair, Gabriel."
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Gabriel looked back at Elena, then down at little Sofia, who was sleeping peacefully under the soft kitchen lights. He had spent ten years building an empire to keep his son safe from the outside world, never realizing that the real snake was sitting at his own Sunday dinner table.
"Vincent," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly calm register that signaled the arrival of a storm. "Get the cars ready. We’re going back to Manhattan."
