Chapter 7 - The Woman at the TableThree weeks earlier, Nora would have laughed if anyone told her she would be teaching mafia captains how to lie convincingly.
Now she stood at the head of a secondary conference table with six hardened men listening while she explained why their usual intimidation tactics were useless.
“You all look guilty.”
One captain frowned.
“We are guilty.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Lorenzo sat in the corner, drinking espresso and clearly enjoying himself far too much.
Nora pointed at the captain.
“You. What’s your name?”
He seemed offended.
“Enzo Bellini.”
“Enzo, you walked into this room like you were deciding where to bury me.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
A younger soldier coughed to conceal laughter.
Enzo glared at him.
Nora continued.
“Lupertazzi’s people expect you to be nervous because the ledger can destroy half the city. If you show up looking like assassins, they know it’s a trap.”
Enzo crossed his arms.
“So what do you suggest?”
“Look greedy.”
“That shouldn’t be difficult,” Lorenzo said.
Several men looked toward him.
He sipped his coffee.
Nora ignored him.
“We leak that Rossi leadership is divided. We make them believe some captains are willing to sell Lorenzo out in exchange for immunity and territory.”
Enzo glanced at Lorenzo.
“And boss is comfortable with that?”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
Nora smiled.
“That’s why it works.”
The plan was simple in theory.
Dangerous in practice.
They would create a fake copy of the ledger.
Real enough to withstand initial inspection.
Incomplete enough that Lupertazzi would need the encryption key.
The key would supposedly be carried separately.
By Nora.
Lorenzo had rejected that portion seventeen times.
Nora had reinstated it eighteen.
“She is not attending the exchange,” he said again after the captains left.
They were alone.
Nora stacked papers.
“She has a name.”
“Nora is not attending the exchange.”
“Better.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Lorenzo stood.
“No.”
Nora sighed.
“Lupertazzi asked for me at the church because they think I’m your weakness.”
“They were correct.”
“That’s why I need to be visible.”
“They will shoot you.”
“Not if they think I have the key.”
“They may shoot you after.”
“Then don’t let them.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
“That is your strategy?”
“You keep telling everyone you’re terrifying. I’m trusting the marketing.”
He walked around the table.
“Nora.”
The humor left her.
“I need this.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
Because the answer was difficult.
Because it had nothing to do with Lorenzo.
Or the Lupertazzi family.
Or the ledger.
“I spent my entire life reacting.”
His expression softened.
“When Mom disappeared for three days, I figured out how Danny and I would eat. When Danny got arrested, I figured out bail. When rent went up, I took double shifts. When those men broke in, I ran. When I met you…”
“You dragged me into a closet.”
“You were unconscious.”
“Mostly.”
Nora continued.
“I am tired of building my life around disasters other people create.”
She touched the table.
“This is the first time I’m choosing the next move.”
Lorenzo studied her.
“You think walking into a room with Lupertazzi is freedom?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“Choice.”
That silenced him.
Finally, Lorenzo reached into his pocket.
He placed a small black object in her hand.
A panic transmitter.
“Press once, the team moves.”
Nora looked at it.
“Twice?”
“I personally break every door between us.”
She smiled.
“That’s very romantic.”
“I am deeply romantic.”
“You bought my workplace and demolished it.”
“I said deeply. Not traditionally.”
The exchange was arranged inside an abandoned theater on Forty-Second Street.
Once, decades earlier, it had hosted musical revues.
Now the seats were covered in dust, the velvet curtains rotted at the edges, and pigeons had claimed the upper balcony.
Nora wore a black dress.
Not because Lorenzo asked.
Because she chose it.
Simple.
Knee length.
Long sleeves.
A concealed holster beneath a coat.
Lorenzo saw her before they left.
He stopped in the bedroom doorway.
“What?”
Nora looked down.
“Is the holster showing?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You look beautiful.”
The sincerity caught her off guard.
She cleared her throat.
“You look like you’re attending a funeral.”
Lorenzo wore a black three-piece suit.
“Possibly theirs.”
“There he is.”
He approached.
Adjusted the small pendant at her throat.
Inside it was a microphone.
His knuckles brushed her collarbone.
“Nora.”
“Yes?”
“If this goes wrong—”
“I know.”
“No.”
His hand rested over her heart.
“You don’t.”
She looked at him.
“If this goes wrong, you do not come back for me.”
Her face hardened.
“Absolutely not.”
“You get out.”
“No.”
“I have thirty armed men surrounding that theater.”
“And I have one Lorenzo.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“You are impossible.”
“You like that.”
“I love that.”
The words came without hesitation.
Nora froze.
Lorenzo did too.
There.
No grand confession.
No candlelight.
No polished speech.
Just truth, accidentally dropped between them like a loaded weapon.
Nora searched his face.
“You love me?”
His eyes opened.
“Yes.”
“You picked a terrible time.”
“I have historically poor timing.”
She grabbed his tie and pulled him down.
The kiss was hard enough to make him stumble half a step.
When she released him, he looked almost dazed.
“I love you too,” she said.
Then she walked toward the elevator.
“Try not to get killed.”
The abandoned theater smelled like mildew.
Nora entered alone.
At least visibly.
A metal case hung from her hand.
The fake ledger.
On stage stood Luca Lupertazzi.
He was younger than Nora expected.
Early forties.
Thin.
Elegant.
He looked like a man who collected art, not bodies.
Four armed guards stood behind him.
“Nora.”
“Luca.”
His eyebrows rose.
“No Miss?”
“No waitress?”
He smiled.
“I see why Lorenzo likes you.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“Business.”
“Bad business.”
“Perhaps.”
He gestured toward the case.
“You brought it?”
“Yes.”
“The key?”
“Not until Matteo is safe.”
Luca laughed softly.
“Matteo is no longer my problem.”
“You kidnapped him.”
“Vittorio kidnapped him.”
“You financed Vittorio.”
“Allegedly.”
Nora sighed.
“I liked you better when I thought you were scary.”
His smile vanished.
“Careful.”
There.
Ego.
Lorenzo had taught her men like Luca always had one.
You did not attack the body first.
You attacked the story they told themselves.
Nora walked closer.
“You’ve spent years trying to beat Lorenzo because nobody remembers your father unless they’re talking about his.”
Luca’s eyes chilled.
“You know nothing about my father.”
“I know he lost.”
One of the guards shifted.
Luca lifted a hand.
“No.”
He descended the stage steps.
“You think sleeping with Rossi makes you powerful?”
“No.”
“What does?”
“Knowing you need what I have.”
She lifted the case.
Luca stopped.
“Open it.”
Nora set it on a dusty table.
Clicked the locks.
Inside sat a laptop and the flash drive.
Luca gestured toward one of his men.
The guard inserted the drive.
Files appeared.
Bank records.
Names.
Photographs.
Real enough.
Luca’s breathing changed.
Greed.
Fear.
Vindication.
Then the screen demanded an encryption key.
He looked at Nora.
“The key.”
“Matteo’s wife leaves the city safely.”
“She already has.”
“Danny’s debt disappears.”
“It does.”
“And Vittorio?”
Luca smiled.
“You can keep him.”
“Generous.”
“The key.”
Nora reached into her coat.
Every guard tensed.
She slowly removed a folded card.
Luca stepped closer.
That was the planned moment.
He needed to be within five feet.
Nora held out the card.
He took it.
Looked down.
There were no numbers.
Only four words.
YOU TALK TOO MUCH.
Luca looked up.
The theater doors slammed shut.
Every exit light went red.
Rossi soldiers emerged from the balcony.
Leo stepped from behind the stage curtain.
Luca’s guards raised their weapons.
Nora pressed the transmitter once.
Nothing happened.
Her stomach dropped.
Luca smiled.
“Oh.”
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a second black transmitter.
Identical to hers.
“You mean this?”
Nora’s blood went cold.
Lorenzo’s voice erupted in her earpiece.
“Nora, get down!”
Gunfire exploded.
She threw herself behind the table.
Bullets shredded the velvet seats.
Leo returned fire from the stage.
The laptop shattered.
Nora crawled across the dusty floor.
Someone grabbed her ankle.
She kicked backward.
Connected with a jaw.
Rolled.
Drew her gun.
A Lupertazzi soldier rushed from the aisle.
Nora fired.
Once.
He dropped his weapon and spun away, clutching his arm.
Not dead.
She did not have time to care.
Luca ran toward the rear exit.
Nora followed.
“Nora!” Lorenzo shouted through her earpiece.
She ignored him.
The exit door burst open.
Luca disappeared into an alley.
Nora emerged seconds later.
Rain.
Trash.
A waiting car.
Luca yanked open the rear door.
Nora raised her pistol.
“Stop.”
He turned.
Smiled.
“You won’t shoot me.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“You’re not like them.”
“No.”
She steadied her breathing.
“I’m worse at missing now.”
Luca’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Nora fired.
The bullet struck the pavement beside his shoe.
He froze.
“Next one is higher.”
Luca slowly raised his hands.
Then applause came from behind her.
Slow.
Measured.
Nora turned.
Matteo stood under the fire escape.
Her confusion lasted half a second.
Then she saw the gun in his hand.
Pointed at her.
“Excellent,” Matteo said.
Nora’s mouth went dry.
Inside the theater, the gunfire continued.
“You?”
Matteo smiled sadly.
“I told Lorenzo his father ordered Elena’s death.”
“You lied?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Finishing what Antonio started.”
Luca walked calmly behind him.
Nora understood.
The exchange had never been about Lupertazzi versus Rossi.
The traitor had been beside them from the beginning.
Matteo.
The man Lorenzo called uncle.
The man they had rescued.
The man they brought straight back inside every layer of security.
Matteo’s eyes hardened.
“Drop the gun, Nora.”
She did.
The pistol hit the wet asphalt.
Matteo stepped closer.
“Where is Lorenzo?”
Nora looked beyond him.
At the alley entrance.
At the dark shape appearing through the rain.
Her fear disappeared.
She smiled.
Matteo frowned.
“What?”
Nora whispered, “Behind you.”
May you like
Lorenzo’s voice came from the darkness.
“You should have stayed kidnapped, Uncle.”
