Chapter 4 - STILL THE BOSS
Marco arrived at 8:17 that evening.
Alone.
At least, apparently alone.
Alessandro had already moved most household staff off the property.
Sophia and Emma were safe downtown.
Miriam waited elsewhere with investigators who had been given evidence regarding financial fraud and the security warning.
Alessandro sat behind the walnut desk.
The curtains were open.
That mattered.
Marco entered carrying a leather case.
“You wanted records.”
“Put them down.”
Marco did.
His eyes moved around the office.
Emma's drawings remained taped beside Alessandro’s bookshelf.
One showed Alessandro in his wheelchair beneath a giant yellow sun.
Marco smiled.
“The kid really got to you.”
“Yes.”
“I never pictured you becoming sentimental.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“I never pictured you becoming a thief.”
Marco stopped.
Silence.
Then he laughed.
“What?”
Alessandro slid one contract forward.
Marco glanced down.
His smile disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
“Interesting first question.”
“Alessandro—”
“Where's the money?”
Marco sat slowly.
“You misunderstand how those entities work.”
“I understood them before you did.”
“You've been absent for two years.”
There it was.
Not concern.
Contempt.
Alessandro felt something inside him settle.
“You mean paralyzed.”
Marco sighed.
“I mean absent.”
“You made sure of that.”
“I kept this organization alive.”
“You canceled my therapy.”
“You quit therapy.”
“You prevented Elena from coming back.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“You were miserable.”
“You intercepted letters.”
“You were unstable.”
“You told people I couldn't make decisions.”
“You couldn’t.”
Alessandro went completely still.
Marco realized what he had said.
Too late.
For two years:
You are still the boss.
Now the truth.
You couldn't.
Alessandro leaned back.
“So that's what you thought.”
Marco rubbed both hands over his face.
“I watched you fall apart.”
“You watched me become useful.”
Marco's expression hardened.
“That’s unfair.”
“Luca.”
Marco looked away.
“Miriam.”
Nothing.
“The contracts.”
Still nothing.
“Dr. Russo.”
Marco finally snapped.
“I DID EVERYTHING.”
His shout echoed through the office.
Alessandro did not flinch.
Marco stood.
“Do you know what happened after you got hit?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He slammed his palm onto the desk.
“Everybody panicked.”
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed.
“Rivals circled. Captains started making moves. Businesses froze because every decision used to stop at YOU.”
Marco pointed toward his wheelchair.
“And you were lying in a hospital staring at the ceiling like the world ended.”
“So you stole it.”
“I SAVED IT.”
“For yourself.”
“For both of us!”
Alessandro laughed.
Marco’s face reddened.
“You think that little girl gives you some new life and suddenly you can judge me?”
Alessandro's expression changed.
“Careful.”
“Oh, come on.”
Marco began pacing.
“You were done.”
Alessandro’s hands curled.
Marco continued.
“You wanted everybody gone. I gave you what you wanted.”
“You made sure everybody stayed gone.”
“You hated visitors!”
“You told them I was unstable.”
“You WERE.”
“I was injured.”
“You were weak.”
The word hung there.
Marco realized the mistake.
Alessandro stared at his oldest friend.
Weak.
There it was.
The thing everyone had been too polite to say.
Marco had stayed because Alessandro being weak made Marco powerful.
Alessandro spoke quietly.
“The security warning.”
Marco stopped moving.
“What warning?”
Alessandro watched his eyes.
“A week before the ambush.”
Nothing.
“Route concerns.”
Marco looked toward the door.
Small.
Automatic.
But Alessandro saw it.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“Security called you.”
Marco became defensive.
“There were warnings every week.”
“You told him I refused a route change.”
“You probably did.”
“I was never asked.”
Marco’s breathing changed.
Alessandro leaned forward.
“Did you know somebody was planning the ambush?”
“No.”
“Did you tell them the route?”
“No!”
“Did you want me dead?”
Marco's face twisted.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Alessandro continued.
“But you knew the route was compromised.”
Marco said nothing.
Alessandro’s stomach dropped.
“Marco.”
“Nothing was confirmed.”
“You knew.”
“It was one warning.”
“YOU KNEW.”
Marco finally exploded.
“I THOUGHT THEY’D SCARE YOU!”
The room went silent.
Alessandro stopped breathing.
Marco's own face registered what he had admitted.
Alessandro's voice became almost inaudible.
“What?”
Marco backed away.
“I didn't know they would shoot.”
Alessandro felt the world narrow.
Rain.
Headlights.
Glass.
Pain.
The hospital ceiling.
Isabella leaving.
The chair.
Two years of darkness.
“You knew.”
“I thought they’d hit the car. Send a message. Force negotiations.”
“You let me take that road.”
Marco's eyes filled.
“I was tired of being your shadow.”
Alessandro stared at him.
“I wanted leverage.”
“Three bullets.”
“I DIDN’T KNOW.”
“A shattered spine.”
“I DIDN’T KNOW!”
Marco slammed both hands onto the desk.
Then his anger collapsed.
He looked suddenly old.
“I visited you every Wednesday.”
Alessandro laughed.
A terrible sound.
“Was that guilt?”
Marco said nothing.
“Or surveillance?”
Marco’s silence gave him the answer.
Alessandro looked at the man who had spent two years repeating:
You are still the boss.
“No wonder you stayed.”
Marco's face broke.
“I loved you like a brother.”
“Brothers don't help put each other in wheelchairs.”
Marco covered his face.
For several seconds, only breathing filled the office.
Then Marco straightened.
His eyes moved toward the hallway.
“You recorded this.”
Alessandro smiled faintly.
Marco froze.
“You recorded me.”
“No.”
Marco's shoulders loosened slightly.
Alessandro continued.
“They did.”
The office doors opened.
Federal agents entered.
Marco stumbled backward.
His face drained white.
“You son of a—”
Alessandro did not move.
Marco lunged toward the desk.
Agents intercepted him before he got close.
He struggled.
“YOU THINK THEY'RE YOUR FRIENDS?”
Alessandro watched.
“You think that kid makes you good?”
Marco shouted as they restrained him.
“You’re still Alessandro Moretti!”
Alessandro's face remained calm.
“I know.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
Alessandro looked at the wheelchair.
Then at the sunlight long gone from the windows.
“Learning that being feared and being alive aren't the same thing.”
Marco was taken out.
The office went quiet again.
Miriam entered several minutes later.
Alessandro looked exhausted.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
He stared at Emma’s drawings.
“What happens now?”
Miriam sat.
“To Marco?”
“To me.”
She understood.
“If you cooperate fully, there will be consequences.”
“I know.”
“Your legitimate businesses can potentially be separated.”
“And the rest?”
“You already know.”
He nodded.
For decades, the Moretti name had been built around one assumption.
Power meant never surrendering anything willingly.
Alessandro looked at the woman across from him.
“Start dismantling it.”
Miriam blinked.
“What?”
“The criminal side.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“That isn't a small decision.”
“No.”
“People will resist.”
“I know.”
“You may lose men who have been loyal to your family for generations.”
Alessandro thought about loyalty.
Marco.
Isabella.
People who stayed because staying benefited them.
Then Emma.
Half a broken cookie.
No knowledge of his wealth.
No fear of his name.
“I think I’m finally learning how little that word means when people are paid to say it.”
He took out his phone.
Sophia answered immediately.
“Hello?”
Emma shouted somewhere behind her.
“IS THAT MR. GRUMPY?”
For the first time that night, Alessandro smiled.
“Yes.”
Sophia hesitated.
“Is it over?”
Alessandro looked toward the doorway Marco had disappeared through.
“That part is.”
“And the rest?”
He looked at the therapy room beyond the hall.
“I'm working on it.”
Emma grabbed the phone.
“You exercise tomorrow?”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
“Apparently.”
“Good.”
Then she shouted:
“DON’T QUIT.”
He laughed.
May you like
“I won't.”
And for the first time since the ambush, Alessandro meant it.
