Chapter 2

The whispers stopped instantly.

Zara's face went from red to white. Her lips moved, but she couldn't get a single word out.

I gave her one cold glance.

Everyone else immediately lowered their heads. Some stared at their ledgers. Others suddenly found the papers in front of them fascinating.

No one dared say another word.

I turned away and walked back to my private office.

Once inside, I shut the door and began gathering my things.

As I cleared the desk, my fingers brushed against an old photograph in a silver frame.

It had been taken after our first successful shipment through the harbor.

Back then, the operation had been small. There were barely a dozen of us standing together in the picture, but everyone was smiling. We had been exhausted, ambitious, and certain we were building something that would make the Moretti name feared again.

Looking at those faces now, I felt the anger inside me slowly give way to something heavier.

Nine years.

I had given nine years of my life to this Family.

How many nights had I been the last person left in the warehouse, checking manifests until sunrise?

How many weekends had I spent at the docks because a route had been compromised or a shipment had gone missing?

How many times had I cleaned up problems no one else could solve, negotiated with men who would have put a bullet in my head if I said the wrong thing, and rebuilt entire routes after rival Families tried to shut us out?

And the operation that had just brought in five hundred million dollars and secured three major ports for the Morettis?

I had built it.

The routes, the contacts, the payment channels, the coded manifests, even the contingency plans we used when law enforcement started watching the docks had all been designed and tested under my command.

No one had handed any of it to me.

Then, last month, my mother became critically ill.

Her condition deteriorated so quickly that I started spending every spare hour at the hospital.

By then, the dangerous part of the port operation was already finished. The routes had been secured, the major deals settled, and all that remained was routine paperwork, shipment records, and final account reconciliation.

I couldn't be in two places at once, so I began delegating.

That was when Regina Addison came to me.

She had only been with the Family a few months. Quiet, eager, almost painfully polite, she offered to take on more of the routine work so I could spend more time with my mother.

I had been grateful.

I handed her shipment records, account summaries, and other repetitive work that required patience more than experience.

I even praised her in front of the others for being dependable.

I never imagined those routine tasks would somehow become the "core of the operation" in Grant's mouth.

And I certainly never imagined that the first month in nine years when I stopped sacrificing every night and weekend to the Family would become proof that I lacked loyalty.

The office door opened quietly.

I looked up.

Regina stood there.

She hesitated before stepping inside, guilt written across her face.

"Adriana..."

Her voice was soft.

"About the ten million. I don't think I should keep it. That money should have been yours."

She lowered her eyes.

"I want to give it back to you."

My hands stopped.

For a moment, I remembered the Regina who had first arrived at Moretti headquarters.

She used to carry a little notebook everywhere. Whenever she didn't understand a ledger entry or couldn't figure out a shipment record, she would come to my office and ask me for help.

Always polite.

Always eager to learn.

Always calling me "Adriana" with that careful, grateful smile.

"All right."

I set down the box in my hands and looked at her.

Then I took out my phone.

"Transfer it now. I'll wait."

Regina froze.

The guilt on her face disappeared so quickly it was almost amusing.

For a split second, surprise flashed through her eyes, followed by irritation.

Clearly, she hadn't expected me to accept.

An awkward silence passed.

Then Regina gave a stiff little laugh.

"Adriana, I was only being polite."

She tilted her head.

"You actually want the money?"

I looked at her without answering.

The timid expression vanished completely.

A faint smile appeared on her lips.

"That ten million was given to me because I earned it. Don Jefferson saw what I did. I handled the shipment records, balanced the accounts, stayed at the warehouses until midnight, and made sure everything was closed out properly."

Her eyes hardened.

"So tell me, Adriana. What right do you have to take it from me?"

Her gaze slowly swept across my office, lingering on the photographs, the ledgers, and everything I had accumulated over nine years.

There was no guilt in her face anymore.

Only satisfaction.

Then she looked back at me and smiled.

"Actually, I suppose I should thank you."

Her voice was almost sweet.

"After all, if you hadn't stepped aside so willingly, I never would've gotten your place."