Chapter 2 - The Great Falls Estate
The iron gates of the Moretti estate in Great Falls didn't just open; they parted like the jaws of a vault.
Liya sat in the passenger seat of the sedan, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The landscape had shifted dramatically over the last thirty minutes, trading the modest brick row houses of Alexandria for sprawling, tree-lined ancestral acres guarded by private security patrols.
Adrian had been silent for most of the drive, staring out the window with a look of cold calculation. He hadn't asked for her permission to bring her here; he had framed it as an extraction.
"Listen to me very carefully," Adrian said as the car glided up the crushed-stone driveway toward a massive limestone manor that looked like a European chateau dropped into Northern Virginia. "Inside that house, my uncle will test your composure. He will offer you money to walk away. He will imply things about my past, my business, and my mother. Do not take his money, do not show him your fear, and whatever you do, do not look at me for rescue."
"I am not your pet project, Adrian," Liya hissed, turning to him with sudden fury. "I didn't ask to be dragged into a mob war because you decided to play hero for five minutes!"
"You're right, you didn't," he replied, his voice dangerously calm as the car came to a smooth halt. "But right now, you are the only leverage Vincent thinks he has against me. That makes you the most dangerous person in this room."
Miller opened the door. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain.
As Liya stepped out onto the gravel, a pair of heavy oak doors swung open at the top of the grand double staircase. Standing in the amber light of the foyer was an older man with silver hair combed straight back, wearing a bespoke velvet smoking jacket. Vincent Moretti. He looked down at them with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Ah," Vincent called out, his voice rich and carrying easily across the courtyard. "The famous waitress. Come in, my dear. It’s not every day my nephew introduces a stray cat into the family parlor."
Liya felt her spine stiffen. She looked at Adrian, whose face had hardened into a mask of pure ice, before lifting her chin and taking her first step toward the stairs.
The interior of the mansion was a museum of old wealth and dark histories—oil paintings of severe men in dark suits, marble floors that echoed with every step, and high ceilings draped in velvet. Vincent waited for them in a cavernous study lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
"Drink?" Vincent offered, gesturing to a crystal decanter of amber liquid on a mahogany desk.
"No," Liya said clearly.
Vincent chuckled, a dry, papery sound. He turned his attention to Adrian, ignoring Liya entirely for a moment. "You’ve created a mess, boy. The commission is already asking questions. They want to know if the North Virginia docks deal is faltering because your head is turned by a girl who counts tips for a living."
"The docks deal is secure," Adrian said, stepping forward to place himself half a step in front of Liya, a subtle barrier. "Keep your nose out of my operations, Vincent."
"Operations?" Vincent’s smile vanished. He stepped around the desk, his eyes locking onto Liya with predatory curiosity. "She isn't an operation, Adrian. She's a liability. And in our line of work, liabilities have a habit of bleeding out."
Vincent reached out, his manicured fingers brushing against the sleeve of Liya’s jacket.
May you like
Before Vincent could complete the gesture, Adrian’s hand shot out, grabbing his uncle’s wrist with a grip so fierce that the older man’s breath hitched.
"Touch her again," Adrian whispered, his voice vibrating with a lethal, suppressed rage, "and I will cut you out of the syndicate tonight, blood relation be damned."
