Chapter 7
I reached the bottom of the stairs.
The basement room was bathed in dim, amber light. Around the long conference table sat the five elder captains of the Moretti family—men in their fifties and sixties, scarred, seasoned, and usually unflappable. At the head sat Salvatore, his tie pulled loose, looking like a man who had aged ten years in eight hours.
Vincent stood by the sideboard, a tumbler of scotch in his hand, his shirt wrinkled, looking disheveled and wild-eyed.
Sitting in the corner, looking small and terrified in an oversized trench coat, was Sophia.
When my heels clicked against the concrete floor, every head snapped toward the doorway.
Vincent turned, the scotch splashing over the rim of his glass onto his wrist. "Claire?"
The five captains instinctively moved to stand, then caught themselves, looking at Salvatore for guidance. Salvatore didn't stand. He simply sank further into his high-backed chair, staring at me as though a ghost had walked into the room.
"Good evening, gentlemen," I said, my voice ringing clear and steady in the basement air.
"Claire," Vincent took two frantic steps toward me, setting the glass down so hard the base cracked. "What are you doing here? How did you get in? Look, this has gone too far. My father is losing his mind, the shipping lines are frozen—call your grandfather! Tell him to stop this madness!"
"Madness?" I echoed, stepping past him toward the center of the table.
Sophia tried to shrink further into her corner, pulling her coat tight. "Claire, please... I’m sorry. I swear to you, Vincent and I were just talking about his childhood. I was drunk, I tripped, that's why he held me—"
"Stop lying, Sophia," I said, not even bothering to look at her. "The manager at the Grand Meridian gave me the security logs from four other nights over the past six months. April 12th. June 3rd. September 19th. And last night."
Vincent froze, his breath catching in his throat.
"You knew?" he whispered, the arrogance entirely leaving his posture.
"I suspected," I replied coldly. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I believed in honor. I believed that when a Moretti gave his word at an altar, it meant something. But you didn't just cheat on me, Vincent. You brought her to family dinners. You let your mother humiliate me in front of her. You let her play the sweet little sister while you spent your nights in penthouse suites, laughing at how blind your wife was."