Chapter 7

• "You useless piece of crap!"
• Vincent's roar echoed in the study at Vance Manor.
• Violet was trembling with fear at his sudden outburst, the teacup in her hand falling to the floor.
• She gasped, taking a step back, and cried out, "Vincent, are you out of your mind? I'm carrying your child, you can't treat me like this!"
• "A child?" Vincent sneered, his eyes flashing with madness, his tone icy. "Are you sure it's even mine?"
• Violet's face went pale in an instant.
• This was the first time Vincent had completely dropped his facade in front of her, revealing his true, sinister self.
• Since returning from the charity gala, Vincent had been like a different person.
• The humiliation he had suffered in front of everyone was like a thorn deeply embedded in his heart.
• The name "Miss Moretti" kept echoing in his mind.
• The humiliation of being laughed at by everyone, the pain of reality slapping him hard in the face, almost drove him insane.
• "Use all resources to investigate for me!"
• Vincent roared into the phone, his voice hoarse and terrifying.
• "I want to know everything about Gianna Moretti!"
• The voice of his manager came through the phone, tinged with obvious nervousness.
• "Yes...sir."
• Violet tried to approach him. "Darling, calm down. That woman is just—"
• "Shut up!" Vincent spun around abruptly, the anger in his eyes silencing Violet.
• Three days later, an encrypted investigation report was delivered to Vincent's desk.
• The first page of the report featured an ancient and majestic coat of arms decorating a double-headed eagle with an olive branch and a sword in its talons.
• Below it was written in Latin, "Famiglia Moretti."
• Vincent's hand began to tremble.
• He turned to the second page, and a candid photo of Gianna came into view.
• But she was not the gentle woman he remembered.
• Her eyes were cold and stern as she monitored the flow of goods, with a sea of cargo ships and containers behind her.
• "The Moretti Family, the oldest Italian Mafia organization."
• Vincent muttered as he read the report.
• "They control all the docks in Chicago, with an annual income exceeding five billion dollars. Three sons, one daughter: Gianna Moretti."
• Each word felt like a heavy blow to his heart.
• "Recent developments: Upon Gianna Moretti's return to the family, she quickly consolidated internal forces and secured exclusive supply agreements through a series of aggressive means, bringing the family an annual profit of sixty million dollars."
• Vincent's face grew paler and paler.
• "Her influence in Chicago is rapidly expanding, already starting to erode her brothers' power. According to reliable sources, she is likely to become the first female godmother in the history of the Moretti family."
• Williamson, a member of the board, walked into the office and sighed when he saw the report in Vincent's hands.
• "Damian, I heard about the charity gala," Williamson shook his head, "If you had married Miss Gianna back then, with her intelligence and the Moretti family's influence in Washington, our group would definitely be more brilliant."
• "It's a pity that she has divorced your brother," Williamson's words were sharp as a knife, "And it seems like she doesn't have much affection for the Vance family."
• Vincent suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, "What did you say?"
• Williamson frowned, somewhat helplessly, "Vincent's marriage to Miss Gianna was a mistake from the beginning. That poor girl suffered a lot in our family. Now she's back with the Moretti family, rising in power, while we..."
• Williamson paused, "We may have to pay the price for our past foolishness."
• Vincent's world collapsed at that moment.
• He finally realized that the girl he had pushed away was not a useless orphan.
• She was a key that could unlock the ultimate treasure of power and wealth, a perfect ally to help him reach the pinnacle.
• If only he hadn't been so arrogant, so blind, if only he had seen Gianna's true value...
• A huge regret consumed him like a venomous snake, as he stared blankly at Gianna's photo in the report.
• "What have I... done..." he could only mutter in pain at last.