Chapter 34
34
MICHAEL
I found it.
The proof I’ve spent days endlessly searching for.
I scoured the entire city, tore through every possible lead, combed the darkest corners of the internet. And now, finally, it’s in my hands.
I hit play on the audio note again.
The decades-old audio crackles with age, but one of the voices commanding the conversation unmistakably belongs to Aldo Cabello—orchestrating the death of his then don’s family. His own brother.
Alongside the recording, a trail of receipts tells the rest of the story—money flowing to offshore accounts, then directly to the assassin who killed Gianna’s parents. Payments to corrupt cops to stage their deaths as a freak accident and to muddy the details of the case, ensuring the culprit was never found.
Until now.
After scrutinizing every document meticulously to verify nothing’s fabricated, I send the payment I bargained for the evidence to an obscure offshore account. Then I download it all onto my phone.
It’s time.
I walk out of my office, and Lorenzo is on his feet immediately, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. “Where to?” he asks, falling in step beside me.
“Downtown Manhattan. Rafael’s home.”
With the number of businesses he has scattered across the city, he’s impossible to pin down on any given day. Which he likes. So I text him.
Heading to your apartment now, very urgent. Meet me there.
We’re already halfway there when he finally replies with a short ‘ ok ’.
As we pull into his underground parking lot, I tell Lorenzo and Marco to wait in the car. This is to be a private conversation between Rafael and me.
The men stationed around the elevator bow their heads briefly as I enter, and I respond with the barest nod of acknowledgment.
When the doors slide open at the penthouse, I’m surprised to find Rafael waiting for me right there in his great room. I glance briefly at the tall, framed flowers on his wall—the silent reminder of our brotherhood pact—before walking forward and stopping in front of him.
“ Fratello , what brings you here? What’s so urgent that it can't wait till our weekly meeting tomorrow?” he asks.
Something’s off.
I pause, studying him carefully.
He’s the same composed, unshakable Rafael, but his chrome eyes shift around distractedly. He’s physically in the room with me but mentally checked out—a rarity for a man whose attention is typically razor-sharp.
“You okay?”
“I’m good, Michael. What brings you here?” he repeats, crossing his arms.
My gaze drops to his bare feet, and I frown as I take in the details I missed at first glance.
The rumpled jacket he’s wearing, his disheveled hair, and even though he's standing perfectly still, the effort it costs him is obvious.
He’s definitely not good.
Are the wheels finally coming off? Why? I know only one force on earth—one person—capable of dismantling his legendary control this way. Emilia. Did he find something out about her?
Any other time, I’d be thrilled to witness this slow-motion collapse, to see what happens when the great Rafael Moretti finally breaks the way he did the night he killed his father.
But right now, I’m also distracted with my own woman problems to enjoy the show.
I take my phone out, navigate straight to my media gallery, and wordlessly hand over the damning evidence to Rafael, my blood boiling as I recall the reason I’m here in the first place.
Fucking Aldo.
Rafael stiffens, his gaze finally coming into focus as he listens to the tape and scrolls through the receipts. He carries himself in the same aloof way he always does—no outward change in his expression—but I’ve known him long enough to read his microscopic reactions. And this… this doesn’t seem like news to him.
My shoulders tighten with realization. Motherfucker. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”
Rafael glances up, then calmly hands my phone back. “He was on our side, so I saw no reason to stir the pot. It didn’t matter to me what the dons did amongst themselves. They were brothers, and at the time, it made no sense to meddle in a family affair.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded, as molten anger courses through me. “He broke the very first rule of the syndicate, Rafael! Loyalty to family. If he could betray his own flesh and blood, then any loyalty he’s shown us is conditional at best. How the fuck could you just look away?”
“Because this happened when we first took over the city. Whatever power we had was still unstable—we needed all the men we could get on our side. You know that . And if it isn’t because you’ve gone and fallen for your little wife, you’d be able to think critically and realize you would’ve done the exact same thing I did.”
I stare at him speechlessly, chest heaving. He’s right. Goddammit, I hate that he’s right.
Back then, in our ruthless quest for power, nobody mattered except us. If I had been the one to stumble on it at the time… would I have just looked away like Rafael did?
Gianna’s golden eyes flash through my mind, and something in my chest constricts painfully.
No.
Not for her. Never for her.
I always took pride in how ruthless and emotionless my brothers and I were, but in our ambition, we turned a blind eye when an innocent was hurt. “Did you know that after Aldo took her in, he started abusing her? Not just him but his son too?”
Rafael doesn’t answer, but his lips press into a tight line, and that’s confirmation enough. I shake my head in disbelief. “You knew that and fucking handed her over to Aldo when I found her. How could you?” My hands form fists at my sides. If he were anyone else, I’d already be on him, beating his face into the floor. How the fuck could he?
“You have no right to stand on a pedestal and fucking judge me, Michael. You’ve done worse in this line of business.”
I don’t deny it. But that doesn’t make this right.
“And now? What will you do now? She’s not just any random girl now, Rafael. She’s my wife. My family. One of us .”
Rafael’s gaze sharpens. A beat of silence. Then, “I know. Now, I’ll summon Aldo to the high table of the commissione and lay his crimes at his feet. He’ll pay for everything.”
The fierce promise takes some edge off my anger, but it’s not good enough.
“I want it done now, tonight. Call the meeting, Rafael.” I need to witness Aldo’s suffering before this day ends. I need him to understand, in exquisite detail, exactly what happens to men who touch what belongs to me.
Wordlessly, Rafael takes out his phone and types rapidly. Seconds later, my own phone pings with the notification as his message appears on the commissione platform—a group that includes me and my brothers.
Don Moretti: EMERGENCY JUDGEMENT MEETING. Thirty minutes. My place.
Not everybody will attend physically because members of the commissione include high-ranking mafia officials from all over the country: Chicago, Texas, Boston, and beyond. But those near the city—my brothers and I—will confront the accused face-to-face.
Rafael’s phone begins to buzz continuously as acknowledgments flood in, and I pace impatiently. If it were up to me, I’d have called the meeting for right the fuck now, damn whatever else the others might be doing. Nothing can be more important than this.
Thirty minutes feels like thirty hours. Even when the members of the commissione start arriving one after the other, time refuses to accelerate.
My brothers arrive first—Romero, then Maximo—both visibly surprised to see me already present; I’m never early to these gatherings. Then comes the fifth most powerful don of NYC, the man who controls the Bronx—Luca Marino, head of the Marino family.
And last, the accused himself.
Aldo fucking Cabello.
The bastard struts in, oozing confidence and arrogance, probably hasn’t the slightest clue why he’s been summoned. He even winks at me, grinning jovially, and suspicion narrows my eyes. He’s up to something.
Gianna.
My heart hammers with an unrecognizable emotion that unsettles my being. I turn away discreetly and reach for my phone, desperate to check the cameras, to reassure myself that my wife is safe and secure at home where nobody can get to her. But before I can, Rafael calls the meeting to start.
I turn back with a suppressed sigh of frustration, following the others into the large conference room next to Rafael’s living room. The knot in my gut tightens with each step. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.
“Aldo Cabello,” Rafael begins once everyone is seated and the video conference connecting the out-of-state members flickers to life. “You might be wondering why you were summoned to a meeting with the commissione. I’ll spare you the suspense. It’s because a crime you committed has come to the limelight, and we cannot keep it hidden anymore as it affects the syndicate as a whole. We–”
“Wait.” Aldo rises to his feet, that insufferable smugness still plastered across his face. “I think I know what crime you’re referring to.” He pauses, dragging it out. Then, his grin widens. “And I’d like to cut a deal with you. Because I have something you’ll be very, very pleased to see.”