Chapter 3 - The Cold Awakening at the Penthouse
Across the river in Manhattan, harsh morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of Adriano Moretti’s luxury triplex penthouse.
Bianca Ricci stood barefoot at the custom marble kitchen island, wearing one of Adriano’s crisp white designer shirts, sipping espresso.
“You actually did it,” she murmured, a smug, triumphant smile playing across her lips. “You really announced it to the entire city.”
Adriano loosened his silk tie, tossing it carelessly onto the dining table. He looked exhausted. He had not slept a single wink. Every single time he closed his eyes in the dark, his mind stubbornly replayed Isabella’s face—not crying, not screaming, not throwing things—just nodding.
Quietly nodding.
“It should have happened years ago,” Adriano muttered, trying to convince himself as much as her.
“Now we can finally stop hiding and live our lives,” Bianca said, slipping her bare arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against his back.
Beyond the towering glass facade, the sprawling skyline of Manhattan stretched out beneath them in the morning haze. Adriano had spent the last two decades aggressively clawing his way to the top, making the Moretti name an absolute powerhouse that no one dared cross. Shipping logistics, private security forces, prime commercial real estate, international banking partnerships, freight distribution networks, and high-level political alliances—he had inherited a dangerous underworld legacy and successfully transformed it into a legitimate corporate infrastructure.
Or so he proudly believed.
Bianca pressed a soft kiss into his shoulder. “Now, everything we built belongs exclusively to us.”
Before Adriano could respond, his private encrypted smartphone shrilled loudly across the marble kitchen.
It was Matteo Caruso, his chief operating officer and most trusted enforcer.
Adriano swiped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “Matteo. What is it?”
“We have a catastrophic problem, boss,” Matteo’s voice was uncharacteristically tight with panic.
“What kind of problem? Did the dock unions strike again?”
“Worse. The Romano Trust has just executed an emergency global freeze on every single disputed capital transfer, asset pledge, and credit line from the last eighteen months.”
Bianca’s arms instantly slipped away from his waist, her smug smile vanishing into thin air.
May you like
Adriano stared blankly out at the magnificent skyline. “That trust is nothing more than a ceremonial relic. It holds no real power over Moretti Capital.”
Matteo’s grim response came back instantly without a heartbeat of hesitation: “It was ceremonial only while Isabella actively allowed it to be, Adriano.”
