Chapter 3 - The Godfather’s Rage
An hour later, inside the heavily guarded estate of the Caruso Syndicate in North Chicago, chaos had broken out.
Salvatore Caruso—the elderly, ruthless patriarch of the syndicate—was slamming a heavy crystal decanter against his mahogany desk.
"You idiot!" Salvatore screamed, his face bright red as he pointed a finger at Vincent, who stood silently in the middle of the study. "You complete, arrogant idiot!"
"I didn't know!" Vincent snapped back, though his voice lacked its usual steel. "How was I supposed to know the orphan girl I married was the lost heiress of Sterling Global?!"
"You didn't know because you were too busy prancing around town with that Moretti girl!" Salvatore raged. "The Moretti family is a dying third-tier crew! They don't have two pennies to rub together! And you humiliated the sole owner of the largest real estate and shipping empire in the state!"
Vincent’s younger brother, Dominic, sat in the leather armchair, reviewing a tablet full of financial updates.
"It’s bad, Uncle," Dominic said gravely. "The moment Arthur Pendelton filed the corporate injunction, three of our major legal fronts lost their commercial leases. The Sterling Trust owns the physical land under four of our primary distribution warehouses. They’ve already issued twenty-four-hour eviction notices served by federal marshals."
Vincent clenched his fists. "She can't do that. We have contracts!"
"Contracts that were signed under the assumption that you were married to the trust's primary beneficiary!" Dominic countered. "There was a morality and spousal default clause in the commercial lease agreement that your own legal team overlooked. By publicly humiliating her on television while she was in labor, you breached the reputation clause."
Salvatore sank into his armchair, rubbing his temples. "Fix this, Vincent."
"How?" Vincent demanded. "She has top-tier lawyers and police guarding her floor!"
"I don't care how!" Salvatore roared, standing up and slamming his hands on the desk. "You go back to that hospital! You get down on your knees! You crawl, you beg, you cry! You make her forgive you! Because if Naomi Sterling decides to wage a financial war against the Caruso family, we won't last a month!"
Meanwhile, back at St. Catherine’s Hospital, Naomi was sitting in a wheelchair, being rolled down the quiet hallway of the NICU.
Through the glass of two small incubators, she watched her tiny newborn babies. They were hooked up to monitors, their little chests rising and falling steadily.
Gloria Martinez stood beside her, placing a warm hand on Naomi's shoulder. "They're fighters, Naomi. Just like their mother."
Naomi reached through the soft rubber ports of the incubator, gently touching Leo’s tiny hand with her pinky finger. He reflexively curled his miniature fingers around hers.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," Naomi whispered, tears finally slipping down her cheeks—not of sorrow, but of fierce, maternal devotion. "Neither of you. I will build a world where no one can ever make you feel second best."
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Arthur Pendelton walked quietly up behind her. "Mrs. Sterling... the press is gathering outside. News of your identity and the divorce filing has leaked to the financial press. The Caruso family is under intense scrutiny."
Naomi didn't take her eyes off her children. "Let them gather. It’s time Chicago learns who really holds the power."
