Chapter 5 - THE SISTER WHO WANTED THE THRONE DISCOVERED IT HAD NO KING
Gianna was arrested six days later.
Not because Lorenzo ordered it.
Because Marco made a mistake.
He resurfaced at a private clinic under an alias after developing an infection in a wound he received during the attack.
A nurse recognized him from news coverage.
Police detained him.
By morning, his lawyer requested a cooperation meeting.
Loyalty lasted exactly until consequences became personal.
Marco talked.
A lot.
He admitted coordinating the garden hit.
He identified the men hired.
He confirmed Gianna authorized it after learning Lorenzo intended to move several transit routes into fully audited legitimate operations.
That transition threatened profits she had been taking through side companies.
The 2012 trust gave motive.
Money gave more.
Daniel had discovered it three years earlier.
Marco admitted following him.
He did not personally damage Daniel’s brakes.
One of the same men used later against Lorenzo did.
The statement reached me through the prosecutor.
I sat at a conference table beside my own attorney.
Not Lorenzo’s.
Her name was Camille Hart.
Forty-five.
Legal-aid background.
Now private civil attorney specializing in victim compensation and workplace coercion.
Father Callahan referred her.
Good.
She explained:
“Marco’s statement is cooperation evidence.”
“Not final conviction.”
“I know.”
“Your husband’s case will take time.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to pursue civil claims against Duca-linked entities if evidence shows employees facilitated murder?”
I froze.
Against Lorenzo’s company.
“Yes.”
That answer hurt.
Camille nodded.
“Good.”
Again.
I almost groaned.
“Everyone says that now.”
She smiled.
“Maybe because you’re making good decisions.”
At hospital, Lorenzo learned I planned civil claim.
He called.
“Against Duca Holdings?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I waited.
“That’s it?”
“What do you expect?”
“Anger.”
“I am angry.”
“Then?”
“You have right.”
Good.
“Do not settle because of me.”
“I wasn’t planning.”
“I know.”
Then he added:
“Use independent valuation.”
I laughed.
“Are you giving advice on how to sue you?”
“Apparently.”
Progress.
Gianna’s arrest happened outside Duca headquarters.
Cameras caught everything.
She wore cream coat.
No black mourning anymore.
Agents approached.
She stared at them.
Then at reporters.
“Do you know who I am?”
Old language.
Authority through surname.
Yes.
They knew.
That was why they were there.
She was charged initially with conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, financial crimes, obstruction, and offenses connected to Daniel’s death investigation pending further evidence.
Not convicted.
Yet.
She entered not guilty plea.
Publicly she called Lorenzo unstable.
Claimed recording manipulated.
Claimed Marco lied for sentence reduction.
Claimed I seduced her brother and manufactured evidence because I wanted access to Duca wealth.
There it was.
The maid.
Of course.
I had kissed Lorenzo exactly zero times.
Had received no money from him beyond wages lawfully owed.
Still, tabloids loved.
MAID AT CENTER OF DUCA FAMILY WAR
NURSE-TURNED-HOUSEKEEPER SAVED MOB KING
DID MARA ELLIS BECOME LORENZO’S SECRET LOVER?
I hated all of it.
The worst article published photographs of Emma.
Her face blurred poorly.
I called Camille.
“Can we stop this?”
“Some.”
We sent privacy notices.
Asked platforms remove child images.
Law enforcement reinforced witness protection measures.
Lorenzo’s office issued statement:
Ms. Ellis is not employed by Mr. Duca and has no financial or romantic obligation to him. She and her minor child should not be used as public entertainment in an active criminal case.
Romantic obligation.
Interesting wording.
He did not deny attraction.
Neither did I.
Good.
Then Gianna attacked through probate.
Her attorneys argued Lorenzo’s injuries rendered him temporarily incapable of managing family trust.
They asked an independent fiduciary be appointed.
Reasonable in abstract.
Then proposed Gianna’s longtime financial adviser.
Absolutely not.
Lorenzo surprised everyone.
He supported independent fiduciary.
Just not hers.
A retired judge with no Duca ties was appointed temporarily.
That meant Lorenzo voluntarily lost direct control over pieces of his own empire while recovering.
His board panicked.
One executive told business press:
“Duca leadership requires decisiveness.”
Lorenzo replied publicly:
“Decisiveness is not same thing as refusing oversight.”
I read quote twice.
Who was this man?
He still frightened people.
Still had criminal history.
Still owned businesses built partly through fear.
Change did not make him safe automatically.
But it mattered.
He was discharged from hospital two weeks after shooting.
Not to mansion.
The estate remained partly crime scene.
He moved into a secured apartment owned by an independent corporate housing company while court proceedings continued.
I saw him three days later.
First time since bunker.
He used a cane temporarily.
One side of his body moved carefully.
The bear Band-Aid was gone.
Emma noticed immediately.
“Where bear?”
Lorenzo crouched slowly.
“Hospital stole it.”
Emma gasped.
“They mean.”
“Very.”
I hid smile.
He held out something.
The paper wrapper from a replacement yellow bear bandage.
“I kept this.”
Emma looked at me.
“Can I take?”
Her question mattered.
“Yes.”
She accepted.
Then hugged Lorenzo without asking either of us.
He froze.
Completely.
His hands stayed at his sides.
He looked at me.
I nodded.
Only then did he hug her gently.
Three seconds.
Emma released.
“Don’t die.”
His face changed.
“I’ll try.”
“No.”
She frowned.
“Promise.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
I said nothing.
He chose words carefully.
“I promise I will do everything I reasonably can to stay alive.”
Emma stared.
“Too many words.”
I laughed.
Lorenzo almost did.
Then she ran toward play area in Camille’s office.
We had chosen neutral space.
No homes.
No dependency.
He sat.
“You look tired,” I said.
“So do you.”
“Three-year-old.”
“Two bullets.”
“Mine wins.”
“Probably.”
Silence.
Then Lorenzo said:
“Marco confessed about Daniel.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“I read enough.”
“Why?”
“Because your husband died inside consequences of my organization.”
“You didn’t order.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But I employed men who learned secrecy was rewarded.”
“I built structures where people were afraid to bring problems directly.”
“Gianna exploited that.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t call myself innocent because I didn’t know exact crime.”
I studied him.
“Careful.”
“What?”
“You’re becoming self-aware.”
He smiled faintly.
“Pain medication.”
Then:
“I want to dissolve syndicate operations.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Not the legitimate companies.”
“The illegal network.”
“Can you?”
“Not easily.”
“Why?”
“People make money.”
“People fear vacuum.”
“Some rivals may interpret retreat as weakness.”
“And?”
He looked toward Emma.
“I almost died in a shed while my sister measured my coffin flowers.”
That was answer.
“I’m done inheriting something just because my father survived long enough to hand it to me.”
My heart shifted.
“Why tell me?”
“Because if I do it, things may become more dangerous before safer.”
“You think we are connected to you.”
“Yes.”
“We are witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“And because…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“I care what you think.”
There.
I looked away.
Dangerous.
“Lorenzo.”
“Yes.”
“I was married to a man who decided what danger I could know because he wanted to protect me.”
His face softened.
“Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“He loved me.”
“I know.”
“But he hid bunker.”
“Yes.”
“He hid fear.”
“Yes.”
“Then died before I could choose whether to stand beside him.”
I looked back.
“Do not repeat his mistake because your version has better tailoring.”
Lorenzo smiled sadly.
“I won’t.”
“Tell me risk.”
“All of it.”
“Then let me choose distance.”
“Yes.”
“Or closeness.”
His eyes held mine.
“Yes.”
No manipulation.
I breathed.
“Then dissolve it.”
He stared.
“That’s your opinion?”
“Yes.”
“Not because of Emma.”
“Partly.”
“Not because of me.”
“Partly.”
“Mainly because if your sister ordering your murder still isn’t enough reason, nothing will be.”
He laughed.
Pain caught his side.
He winced.
I almost reached.
Stopped.
He noticed.
“Can I help?”
He nodded.
I handed cane.
Not body.
Choice.
The criminal side of Duca operations began shutting down that month.
Accounts turned over under cooperation agreements.
Illegal routes abandoned.
Weapons storage disclosed.
Protection schemes ended.
Some associates fled.
Some cooperated.
Some were arrested.
Lorenzo faced exposure too.
Of course.
No one dismantles a criminal organization by admitting only other people committed crimes.
Prosecutors began negotiating.
His attorneys hated me for one thing.
When Lorenzo asked whether cooperating fully was worth prison risk, I said:
“Yes.”
He stared.
“You’re brutal.”
“You asked.”
“Most women dating mafia bosses say something romantic.”
“We’re not dating.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Yet.”
May you like
I ignored.
But my heart did not.
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