Chapter 8 - The Traitor in the Ranks
The trap at Piazza del Duomo was sprung with military precision.
The individual who arrived at the designated cafe table expecting a terrified Elena found instead four of Matteo’s elite plainclothes enforcers waiting for him.
Within thirty minutes, the blackmailer was brought to the interrogation room in the basement of the Bellandi headquarters.
When Matteo stepped into the room, he was surprised to see the man strapped to the chair. It was not a rival gang member or a Neapolitan enforcer.
It was Giacomo—Matteo’s personal chauffeur and junior security agent, a man who had served the Bellandi family for four years.
"Giacomo," Matteo said coldly, leaning against the edge of the metal table. "I gave you a home, a generous salary, and my trust. Why?"
Giacomo sneered, his lip bleeding from his initial capture. "You gave everything to a maid, Don Bellandi! You passed over loyal men who bled for this family to put a common servant and her bastard child in the master wing! The elder lieutenants are sick of it! We wanted you out, and if revealing her past ruined your credibility with the council, then so be it!"
Matteo listened quietly, his expression unreadable. He slowly walked around the table, standing directly behind Giacomo.
"You think power is about pedigree, Giacomo?" Matteo murmured, his deep voice carrying an ominous weight. "You think loyalty is bought with titles? Elena Rossi risked her life to protect this house when she had nothing to gain. You had everything, and you sold your honor for jealousy."
Matteo leaned down, whispering in Giacomo’s ear. "You are stripped of your rank, your assets, and your name. You leave Italy tonight, and if you ever step foot in Lombardy again, my men will not bother bringing you to an interrogation room."
Matteo walked out of the room, leaving Marco to handle the exile orders.
As he walked up the stairs into the sunlight, Matteo realized that as long as Elena and Mia remained without an official title within the syndicate, ambitious men like Giacomo would always see them as a vulnerability to exploit.
It was time to make their position absolute and unquestionable.
He drove to Milan’s finest jewelry house on Via Montenapoleone, making a private appointment with the master jeweler.
"I need something singular," Matteo told the jeweler as velvet trays of brilliant diamonds were laid out before him. "Something fit for the woman who saved my life and rules my heart."
The jeweler smiled respectfully, pulling out a velvet box containing an exquisite, flawless four-carat emerald-cut diamond ring, flanked by two baguette diamonds set in platinum.
"This came from a private royal collection in Belgium, Don Bellandi," the jeweler murmured. "It is timeless, pure, and unbreakable."
May you like
Matteo picked up the ring, watching the light catch the diamond’s facets.
"It's perfect," Matteo said.
