Chapter 7 - THE BROTHER WHO WANTED THE THRONE
Marco Moretti was forty-two.
Three years older than Alessandro.
Elegant.
Charming.
And known throughout Chicago as the respectable face of the Moretti family.
He managed real estate investments and charitable foundations.
He rarely appeared in photographs with the family's criminal associates.
According to Alessandro, Marco had spent years claiming he wanted nothing to do with the family's darker business.
Now his name had surfaced in connection with canceled medical appointments.
Alessandro summoned him.
Marco arrived that evening wearing a charcoal suit and an expensive smile.
"Little brother."
Alessandro didn't smile.
"Sit."
Marco glanced at me.
"Who's this?"
"Claire Bennett."
Marco looked me over.
"The new housekeeper?"
I stiffened.
Alessandro's voice hardened.
"She's coordinating my medical care."
Marco raised an eyebrow.
"Since when?"
"Since I discovered someone has been canceling my appointments."
Marco's smile faded.
"Alessandro, you're being dramatic."
I watched Alessandro's hands tighten on the armrests.
"Did you authorize those cancellations?"
Marco sighed.
"I was protecting you."
"From doctors?"
"From disappointment."
Silence.
Marco continued.
"Every specialist tells you the same thing. Why put yourself through it?"
I felt anger rise in my chest.
But I remained quiet.
Alessandro stared at his brother.
"You don't get to decide which medical care I receive."
Marco's expression hardened.
"Someone has to make practical decisions."
Alessandro leaned forward.
"Not you."
Marco stood.
"This is ridiculous."
He looked at me.
"And you. You've been here less than a week."
I met his eyes.
"Yes."
"And you're already interfering in family matters?"
I took a breath.
"I'm arranging appointments Mr. Moretti requested."
Marco laughed.
"How noble."
Then he looked at Alessandro.
"Be careful, brother. People like her always want something."
The room went silent.
Alessandro's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Leave."
Marco stared.
"What?"
"Get out."
Marco looked between us.
Then smiled coldly.
"You're making a mistake."
He walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he turned.
"Father always said your weakness would destroy us."
Alessandro didn't move.
"Father's dead."
Marco's expression changed.
Then he left.
I stood quietly beside the desk.
For several minutes, Alessandro said nothing.
Finally, he whispered:
"He always hated that Father chose me."
I looked at him.
"To lead the family?"
He nodded.
"And after the ambush?"
Alessandro stared toward the window.
"Marco became indispensable."
May you like
I felt a chill.
Because suddenly, the pieces were beginning to fit.
