She Accused Me of Stealing My Own Business

The air in the gallery was thick enough to choke on.

Don Moretti looked at Vincenzo, his eyes filled with contempt.

“Young man, let me remind you of something,” he said slowly. “The only reason I ever agreed to meet with you was out of respect for her father.”

He pointed at me.

“Antonio Rossi saved my life.”

Vincenzo’s face was ashen.

“And now you kick his daughter out of her own business?” Moretti continued. “Is this how your generation shows gratitude?”

“Sir, you’ve misunderstood…” Vincenzo’s voice trembled. “Isabella betrayed the family, she was skimming—”

“Shut your mouth!” the old Don’s voice was like thunder. “Do you think I’m blind?”

He turned to me. “Isabella. Tell me the truth.”

I put down my wine glass and looked at Vincenzo’s desperate face.

“Two years ago, I lent him the club my father left me. For free,” my voice was steady and clear. “I covered all the operating costs myself.”

“And then?”

“And then his new pet framed me for skimming, faked the books, and forced me to hand over control.” I let out a small, bitter laugh. “They even demanded I pay them one million, two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. From my own club.”

Don Moretti’s face became a mask of cold fury.

He looked at Vincenzo, who was now sweating through his suit.

“Vincenzo, you have disappointed me greatly.”

“No, sir! Please, let me explain…” Vincenzo dropped to his knees with a thud. “It’s all a misunderstanding! Isabella, please, help me! For old times’ sake!”

I looked down at the man who had once fixed my car in a blizzard.

Now he was kneeling on the floor, begging like a dog.

“‘Old times’ sake’?” My voice was sharp as a shard of glass. “Vincenzo, are you talking about the old times when you fixed my car in a snowstorm, or the old times when you used my father’s club to impress a dancer?”

“Was it when you trashed my cigars? Or when you took my car, spent my money, and let that cheap dancer humiliate me?”

“I gave you loyalty, and you tried to take everything from me. Now that your ‘ally,’ your ‘club,’ and your ‘family’ are all going up in flames, now you remember old times’ sake?”

“Vincenzo, my loyalty is expensive. And you can’t afford it anymore.”

I took out my phone and dialed Mr. Cohen.

“Mr. Cohen, it’s me.”

The call connected. I watched Vincenzo’s face twist in terror.

“Authorize all legal proceedings. Immediately.”

“Isabella, don’t!” Vincenzo lunged for my phone, but Moretti’s bodyguards blocked him.

“Freeze all my assets that have been illegally seized,” I continued into the phone. “The club, the cars, the bank accounts.”

“Understood, Miss Isabella.”

I hung up and turned to Mr. Moretti.

“Sir, this is clearly not the place for our discussion,” I said with a graceful smile. “Would you care to join me at my private estate?”

The old Don let out a booming laugh.

“Of course! I was just thinking I’d like to get away from this police cordon.”

He gave Vincenzo a sarcastic look. “Let’s leave him to deal with the cops.”

As we headed for the door, Mr. Moretti stopped.

“Isabella, I have a proposal.”

“What is it?”

“I’m starting a new enterprise on the East Coast,” he said, his eyes gleaming with shrewd intelligence. “I need a reliable partner.”

“My only partner,” he emphasized.

I glanced at Vincenzo, still kneeling on the floor, then nodded.

“I would be honored.”

The sirens outside grew louder.

Mr. Moretti and I walked toward my Rolls-Royce.

“No! Isabella!” Vincenzo tried to run after me, but his own men held him back.

“Boss, the cops are looking for you!” Marco said in a panic. “We have to deal with this mess!”

I got into the car and watched the club shrink in the rearview mirror.

The flashing red and blue lights seemed like a celebration.

“A brilliant move,” Mr. Moretti said with admiration. “Your father would be proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

The car pulled away smoothly.

I watched the neon lights of the city blur past, a cold smile on my lips.

Let them off easy? Not a chance.

The police raid was just the appetizer.

I took out my phone and sent a text to Mr. Cohen.

Initiate phase two. The bill for $37.1 million, along with the lawyer’s letter. Send it to every one of Vincenzo’s creditors and allies right now. I want him broke. I want him alone.

After the message sent, I looked at Mr. Moretti.

“Uncle, we’re just getting started.”