CHAPTER1
770 Words
THE DEVIL WEARS BLACK
No one in Florence spoke Lucien Moretti’s name after sunset.
Not because they were forbidden to. But because fear had taught them silence.
The old bartender wiped a glass with trembling hands as the evening news played on the television hanging above the shelves. Another warehouse had exploded near the docks. Three men were dead. The reporter called it a gang dispute.
The bartender scoffed.
“They never tell the truth.”
An old man sitting at the counter glanced around before lowering his voice.
“It wasn’t a gang dispute.”
“What was it?”
The old man’s fingers tightened around his coffee cup.
“Someone stole from the Morettis.”
The room fell silent. The water stopped moving. No one asked another question. They didn’t need to.
Everyone knew what happened to the people who stole from Lucien Moretti.
No one ever saw them again.
Outside, the rain fell harder.
A young waitress, new to the city, frowned in confusion.
“Who’s Moretti?”
The bartender’s face drained of color. He walked around the counter until he stood in front of her.
“Don’t ask that name so loudly.”
She laughed nervously.
“Why? Is he the president?”
The old man slowly shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who is he?”
The old man stared through the rain-soaked window as though expecting someone to be listening.
“He owns the city.”
Across town, headlights sliced through the darkness. A convoy of black cars rolled through empty streets. Traffic lights changed to green before the convoy even reached them. Police officers standing on the roadside lowered their eyes instead of stopping the vehicles. No one wanted to be the fool who delayed Lucien Moretti.
Inside the first car, silence reigned. Lucien sat in the back seat, his fingers resting lightly on the head of a silver cane. It wasn’t for support. He had carried it ever since his father died. Some said it reminded him that power wasn’t inherited… it was defended.
His tailored black suit was immaculate despite the storm outside. Raindrops streaked across the tinted window, blurring the lights of the city into ribbons of gold.
Marco, his driver, glanced at him through the rear-view mirror.
“They found him.”
Lucien didn’t respond.
“The accountant.”
Still silent.
“He says he’ll return every cent.”
Lucien finally looked up.
“After stealing from me?”
Marco swallowed.
“Yes.”
Lucien’s gaze drifted back to the rain.
“Then he has mistaken me for a bank.”
The warehouse smelled of rust and seawater. A man knelt on the cold concrete floor, his hands bound behind his back. His expensive suit was torn. Blood stained the collar of his white shirt.
The massive door cracked open.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the building. Every guard straightened instantly.
Lucien entered without a hurry.
There was nothing dramatic about him. No shouting. No threats. No display of anger. Yet the air itself seemed to tighten around him.
The kneeling man burst into tears.
“Please… I made a mistake.”
Lucien stepped a few feet away. His expression remained unreadable.
“What was your daughter’s name?”
The man blinked.
“W… what?”
“Your daughter.”
“Clara.”
Lucien nodded once.
The man’s breathing became uneven.
“You…”
Lucien continued calmly.
“She likes drawing butterflies.”
The prisoner stared in horror.
“And every Saturday you take her for strawberry ice cream.”
Lucien crouched until they were eye level.
“I know everything about people who work for me.”
His voice remained soft.
“So tell me…”
He tilted his head slightly.
“What made you think I wouldn’t discover your betrayal?”
The man collapsed into desperate sobs.
“I needed the money.”
Lucien stood.
“So did I.”
He adjusted the cuff of his jacket.
“But I chose loyalty.”
Without another word, he turned and walked towards the exit. No order was given. No command was spoken. Yet the guards understood.
The warehouse filled with pleading cries as the doors slowly closed behind Lucien. He never looked back.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky. Marco opened the car door.
“They’ll fear you even more after tonight.”
Lucien slipped into the back seat.
“Fear,” he said quietly, “lasts longer than love.”
The convoy disappeared into the rain, while somewhere in the city another frightened voice
whispered the name that mothers used to scare their children into obedience.
- Writer
