The Moretti family's enemies were no longer faceless shadows. Over the past few months, Elena had become aware of the countless rival factions that sought to undermine Don Vincenzo's rule. The more she learned, the more she realized how precarious his empire really was. Every day was a battle, a fight for power, and Elena, despite her best efforts to remain neutral, was becoming a pawn in a game that was much larger than her.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Elena was summoned to Don Vincenzo's office again. This time, however, she wasn't alone. His trusted bodyguard, *Giovanni*, stood by the door, his face taut with tension. Something was wrong.
Don Vincenzo's face was tight, his brow furrowed in frustration. He stood by the window, staring out into the darkened streets. Elena approached him cautiously.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"A betrayal," he said quietly, his back still turned. "Someone close to me has sold us out. I've been keeping my enemies at bay for too long, and now they've infiltrated my inner circle."
Elena's stomach sank. "Who?"
"Someone you know well," Don Vincenzo said, turning to face her. "Someone I trusted. Giovanni, bring him in."
Giovanni stepped aside, revealing Marco, the gallery owner who had warned Elena when she first entered the world of the Morettis. His expression was one of resignation, but it was clear he had been caught. He had chosen the wrong side.
"Marco…" Elena whispered, shock and disbelief flooding her. She had trusted him, believed in his words, but now she saw the truth. Marco had been working with Don Vincenzo's rivals all along.
"I never wanted this for you, Elena," Marco said, his voice cracking with guilt. "But they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I'm sorry."
Elena's heart pounded in her chest, her world spinning. Betrayal, deception—it was all too much to process.
Don Vincenzo stepped forward, his face hard as stone. "There's no place for traitors in my world, Marco. You should have known better."