Page 126 of Stricken

Her mind swirls with chaotic thoughts, a hurricane of emotions threatening to overwhelm her very being. Where had she gone wrong? What sins had she committed to deserve such a fate? Her firstborn Roberto has never been interested in anything but himself and his own ambition outside the family business. And Salvatore, her younger son, once a child full of promise and potential—now a man consumed by his greed for power.

Her heart aches with the knowledge of their reckless and evil behavior.

Tears sting her eyes as Chiara faces the devastating truth that Salvatore and Claudio tried to kill her beloved Tony. Her own flesh and blood, plotting against their father—the very man who had given them everything. The betrayal cuts deep, a wound that may never heal.

"Madre di Dio," Chiara pleads, her voice cracking with emotion. "What have I done to lead my sons astray? Where did I fail them as a mother?"

The weight of her boys' sins presses down upon her, suffocating in its intensity. And she longs for the days of innocence, when her boys were young and untainted by the cruelties of the world. But those days are long gone, replaced by a harsh reality that now threatens to tear her family apart.

Chiara's shoulders shake with silent sobs, her entire frame wracked with grief. She clings to her faith, desperately seeking solace in the only constant that remains unchanged amidst the bloody chaos. But even the words of prayer feel hollow, almost as if they are a futile attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable.

While she kneels there, worrying the rosary between her fingers and lost in her suffering, the harsh truth pressed down on Chiara's shoulders. Her once-beautiful family, the mighty Morellis, are on the brink of destruction—and she is powerless to stop it. The future stretches before her, bleak and unforgiving, a reflection of the inescapable consequences of her sons' actions.

And if the worst happens, her only daughter's life will be ruined too.

When Chiara runs out of all the prayer she knows, she slowly rises from her knees. Her movements deliberate and heavy. She's tired.

Drawing a deep breath, Chiara wills herself to find the strength she so desperately needs. As she stands, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the ornate mirror that hangs on the wall. Her face is a mask of calm, a carefully crafted facade that doesn't give away a single thought. This is what all women marrying into the Morelli family know how to do—pretend that everything is alright. It's a fine art skill that's difficult to perfect.

She knows what she must do.

Chiara must go to Tony, to plead for Salvatore's life. It is a desperate gamble, one that could very well seal her own fate along with her son's. But she is a mother, and there is no sacrifice too great when it comes to the safety of her children. Even if her child has been tempted by Satan himself.

With a final glance at the crucifix, Chiara exits her room. As she steps into the corridor, she says another silent prayer, entrusting her fate to the hands of a higher power.

She still can't get used to the house looking like this. The walls, once adorned with priceless artworks, now bear the scars of violence—bullet holes and cracked paint.

She moves through the rooms like a ghost, her footsteps barely a whisper against the polished marble floors. Each step is careful as if the slightest misstep could shatter the fragile illusion of normalcy that she clings to.

A crooked photo catches her eye. The smiling faces of her husband and sons staring back at her from behind a fractured pane of glass. With a trembling hand, Chiara reaches out to straighten it, her fingers tracing the jagged edges of the frame. How many more cracks can their family endure before they crumble entirely?

As she nears her husband's office on the other side of the house, the sound of hushed voices drifts toward her through the slightly ajar door. Chiara's heart races as she strains to make out the words. She knows she shouldn't eavesdrop, but the gravity of the situation compels her forward, her need for answers outweighing any sense of propriety.

Tony's voice, usually so calm and assured, now carries an edge of steel and… rust. "We will not let this go on," he says harshly. "An example must be made, or others will think they can challenge my authority. The entire city thinks the Morelli is a bunch of fags."

Chiara's breath catches in her throat.

The words that leave her husband's mouth next chill Chiara to the bone. "If Nicola doesn't end things with Solovey within two weeks' time, you know what needs to be done.Capisce?"

"Sì, capisco, Padrino," the man replies.

Chiara knows who he is. A loyal soldier from Sicily. From a place where the Morelli breed their killers.

This man only takes orders from Tony. No one else.

With a shaky breath, Chiara steps back from the door, her head spinning.

She hates that her only nephew and her sons are on opposite sides but she raised that boy. She would find a way to save Nico, to warn him at least.

But even as she grasps for a solution in the privacy of her mind, she knows deep down that there's no easy way out of this. This family have just created their own doom.

Only a miracle can save them now.

CHAPTER42

VLAD

The drumming of raindrops against the roof and window panes fills my home office with monotonous noise that otherwise would help me concentrate. But not tonight. The numbers on my laptop's screen blur into one as I scan the spreadsheet once more. Somewhere in the background, Ivan is droning over the phone in Russian.

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