Chapter 2 - The Staged Wake
The grand foyer of the Moretti estate looked like a cathedral of despair. Tall, white pillar candles flickered casting long, ominous shadows across the vaulted ceilings. Heavy black velvet drapes blocked out the morning sun, maintaining the suffocating atmosphere of theatrical mourning that Vittorio loved so much.
I walked through the heavy front doors at 9:00 AM sharp, looking immaculate in a tailored black Dior dress, dark sunglasses shielding my eyes.
Vance stood by the base of the marble staircase, holding a fresh crystal glass of scotch. He watched me descend with a scrutinizing gaze, searching for tears, for weakness, for a crack in my composure.
"You look composed, Elena," Vittorio noted, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "More composed than a woman who just lost her husband. Most wives would be inconsolable."
I stopped a few feet away from him, my expression blank.
"Grief takes many forms, Vittorio," I replied smoothly, adjusting the collar of my dress. "Some people cry. Others... start planning legal maneuvers before the body is even cold."
Vance’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of unease passing across his weathered face. Before he could respond, Lucas emerged from the study. He had traded his sunglasses for a respectful black tie, but the angry red scratch on his neck was still faintly visible beneath his collar, despite the heavy layer of concealer.
"Elena," Lucas said, stepping forward with his arms half-open, playing the role of the sympathetic, grieving brother-in-arms. "It’s such a tragedy. Marco was the backbone of this company. How are you holding up? Do you need me to handle the corporate filings while you process everything?"
I stared at Lucas, letting the silence stretch out until it became uncomfortable for him.
"No, Lucas," I said softly, stepping past him toward the casket. "I wouldn't dream of troubling you with corporate filings. In fact, I called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning. We are going to audit every single subsidiary account, starting with the overseas logistics division you manage."
Lucas froze. The color drained from his face so fast it looked like someone had turned off a light switch. He stammered, "An... an audit? Now? Elena, the markets are unstable, the funeral—"
"The audit is non-negotiable," I interrupted, turning to look him dead in the eye. "Unless, of course, there is something in those ledgers you don't want the federal regulators to see."
Vance strode over, stepping between us, his massive frame radiating intimidation. "Enough of this nonsense! Today is about honoring Marco. We will discuss board meetings and audits when the mourning period is over. Lucas, take your place by the casket."
May you like
I didn't argue. I didn't raise my voice. I simply walked over to the mahogany casket, looked down at my husband’s pale, bruised face, and gently laid a single white rose across his chest.
Just wait a little longer, Marco, I whispered silently in my mind. Your father thinks he owns the empire. Tomorrow, I'm going to burn it to the ground.
