Chapter 4 - The Viper's Visit
Three days passed in a quiet, tense luxury.
Living on the third floor felt like existing inside a golden birdcage. The head chef prepared gourmet meals for Lily and me, personal tailors were brought in to fit us with fine clothing, and private tutors arrived to entertain Lily with music and art lessons.
Yet beneath the luxury, the mansion was on high alert.
Vincent spent his days in private strategy meetings with his capos, dismantling Julian Vale’s logistics empire piece by piece in retaliation for the attempt on Enzo’s life.
On Friday afternoon, while Vincent was away at a high-level syndicate tribunal in Midtown, the heavy mahogany doors of the third floor clicked open.
I immediately stood up from the drawing room table, pulling Lily behind me.
Cassandra Vale walked in.
She wasn't wearing her usual immaculate white dresses. She wore a sharp, dark velvet coat, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight, severe bun. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her posture was rigid with toxic pride.
Two of Vincent’s armed guards stood right behind her, looking uncomfortable.
"Mistress Vale," I said coldly. "Mr. Moretti gave strict orders that no one is allowed on the third floor without his personal permission."
"The guards let me up because I am still Vincent’s fiancée, you filthy little gold-digger," Cassandra spat, her venomous voice dropping to a whisper so the guards at the door wouldn't catch every word.
She stepped closer, her perfume—that heavy orange blossom scent—filling the room, making my stomach turn.
"Look at you," Cassandra sneered, sweeping her eyes over my tailored wool dress. "Dressing up in fine clothes, playing mother to the Moretti heir, living in the late wife’s quarters. You think because your brat found a bottle that you’ve secured a spot in Vincent’s bed?"
"I don't care about Vincent’s bed, Miss Vale," I replied with cold, unwavering dignity. "I care about the fact that your father tried to murder a nine-month-old baby."
Cassandra’s face contorted in rage. She took another step forward, raising her hand as if to slap me. "My father was trying to secure my future! Enzo is a half-breed mistake born from a weak mother! He didn't deserve the Moretti throne!"
SLAP!
The sound echoed sharply through the grand room.
It wasn't Cassandra who hit me.
I had grabbed her wrist mid-air, squeezing her delicate, manicured hand until her fingers turned white.
"If you ever speak about that motherless baby like that again," I whispered, stepping into her space, my eyes blazing with maternal fury, "I won't wait for Vincent’s guards to handle you. I will throw you down those marble stairs myself."
Cassandra gasped, trying to pull her hand back, absolute shock registered across her face. She had expected a meek, frightened maid. She hadn't realized that a mother protecting children is the most dangerous creature alive.
"Get your hands off me!" Cassandra shrieked.
"Is there a problem here?"
Vincent’s deep voice shattered the confrontation.
He stood in the doorway, wearing his dark suit, flanked by Marco and three senior capos. His eyes locked onto my hand gripping Cassandra’s wrist.
Cassandra instantly burst into dramatic, practiced tears, twisting out of my grip and running toward Vincent.
"Vincent! Oh, thank God you're home!" Cassandra wailed, clutching at his lapels. "This woman attacked me! I came up here to offer my condolences about the nanny situation, and she grabbed me! She threatened to throw me down the stairs!"
Vincent didn't wrap his arms around her. He didn't offer a single word of comfort.
He looked over Cassandra’s head, meeting my calm, steady gaze across the room.
"Is this true, Clara?" Vincent asked smoothly.
"I stopped her from hitting me, Mr. Moretti," I answered clearly. "And she just referred to your son as a 'half-breed mistake who didn't deserve the throne.'"
The atmosphere in the room turned instantly lethal.
The three capos standing behind Vincent shifted uncomfortably, their hands moving reflexively toward their jackets.
Vincent slowly reached down, unclenching Cassandra’s fingers from his suit lapels. He stepped back, severing all physical contact between them.
"Marco," Vincent said softly.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Cancel the wedding," Vincent ordered, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Strip the Vale family of their shipping credentials. Confiscate their properties in Brooklyn and Queens. And escort Miss Vale to her car. If she sets foot on Moretti property again, shoot her."
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Cassandra stared at him, her tear-stained face freezing in absolute horror. "Vincent! You can't do this! You need my father’s docks!"
"I don't need anything from a family of rat poisoners," Vincent said coldly, turning his back on her. "Get her out of my sight."
