THE LAST ORDER OF THE DON

The First Thread

The Giordano territory started at the river.

Sterling stood on the bridge, looking across the water. On one side was Caminetti land—old buildings, fading paint, the smell of fish and oil. On the other side was Giordano land—glass towers, clean streets, the glow of money.

He'd never crossed the river before. Not once in twenty-nine years. The Don had forbidden it. "You go into Giordano territory, you don't come back."

But the Don was dead now. And Sterling had questions.

He checked his weapon—a small pistol, hidden in his jacket. He checked his phone—burner, untraceable. He checked his watch—two in the morning. The city was asleep. The perfect time to move.

He walked across the bridge.

The Giordano territory was different. Quieter. Cleaner. The streets were empty, the windows dark. But Sterling could feel eyes on him. Cameras. Guards. The Giordano family watched everything.

He walked for twenty minutes. Past closed shops, past empty cafes, past a park with a fountain that didn't run. He was looking for an address—a place Vincenzo had found. The home of a woman named Silvana Guidotti. His mother's cousin. The last living Giordano who might remember.

The house was small—a townhouse on a quiet street. Flowers in the window. A light on in the upstairs room.

Sterling knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

The door opened. A woman stood there—old, grey-haired, sharp-eyed. She was wearing a robe, her face creased with sleep. But her eyes were alert. Wary.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Sterling Moretti."

Her face changed. She knew the name. She knew who he was.

"You shouldn't be here," she said.

"I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About my mother."

The woman stared at him. Her eyes were wet. Her hands trembled.

"Come in," she whispered. "Quickly."

---

The house was warm. Old furniture. Photographs on the walls. Sterling looked at them—faces he didn't recognize, names he didn't know. But one photograph caught his eye. A young woman with dark hair and dark eyes. Holding a baby.

His mother.

"You look like her," Silvana said. She was sitting in a chair, a cup of tea in her hands. "The same eyes. The same stubborn jaw."

Sterling sat across from her. "What was her name?"

"Elena. Elena Giordano." Silvana's voice was soft. "She was my cousin. My best friend. She was kind. Gentle. Too good for this world."

"How did she die?"

Silvana looked at him. Her eyes were sad. "You know how."

"Tell me anyway."

"She was killed. By the man you call your father."

Sterling's chest tightened. He'd known. Yvonne had told him. But hearing it from someone who had loved her—that was different.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because she was pregnant. Because she threatened to expose him. Because he was married. Because he was a coward."

Silvana set down her tea. She stood. She walked to a drawer. She pulled out a letter.

"She wrote this before she died. She asked me to give it to you when you were old enough."

Sterling took the letter. His hands were shaking. He opened it.

My son,

If you're reading this, I'm gone. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

Your father is a dangerous man. He will raise you. He will love you. But he will also lie to you. He will tell you that I abandoned you. He will tell you that I didn't want you. Both are lies.

I wanted you more than anything. I loved you more than anything. And I died because I loved you.

Don't hate him. He's your father. He's the only family you have. But don't trust him. Don't trust anyone.

Except the one who wears the ring.

Find them. Find the truth.

Your mother,

Elena

Sterling read the letter three times. Then he folded it. He put it in his pocket.

"The ring," he said. "The wolf and the snake. Do you know who has it?"

Silvana shook her head. "I don't. But I know someone who might."

"Who?"

"Petra Landi. She's Xerxes's consigliere. She knew your mother. They were friends."

Sterling frowned. "Petra Landi works for the man who wants to destroy my family."

"Petra Landi works for Xerxes because she believes in his vision. But she also believes in the truth. She's a good woman. She'll help you."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's been waiting for you."

---

Petra Landi lived in a penthouse in the Financial District. The building was glass and steel, a monument to money. Sterling walked through the lobby, past the security guards, past the concierge. No one stopped him. No one asked questions.

He took the elevator to the top floor. The door opened. Petra was waiting.

She was beautiful—tall, dark-haired, with eyes that saw everything. She was wearing a simple black dress, no jewelry, no makeup. She didn't need it.

"Sterling Moretti," she said. "I was wondering when you'd come."

"You were expecting me?"

"I was hoping." She stepped back. "Come in."

The apartment was minimal—white walls, modern furniture, a single painting on the wall. It was a portrait of a woman. Elena. Sterling's mother.

"You knew her," Sterling said.

"She was my mentor. My friend. She taught me everything." Petra walked to the painting. "She was the bravest woman I ever knew."

"Then why do you work for the man who destroyed her?"

Petra turned. Her eyes were sad. "Because Xerxes didn't destroy her. Your father did."

"Xerxes wants to destroy my family."

"Xerxes wants to save what's left of it. The Caminetti family is dying, Sterling. Your father killed it. But Xerxes can rebuild it. He can make it something better."

"By taking over."

"By merging. By modernizing. By saving us from extinction."

Sterling shook his head. "You sound like him."

"I believe in him. But I also believe in you."

"What does that mean?"

Petra walked to a desk. She opened a drawer. She pulled out a photograph.

"This is the ring," she said. "The wolf and the snake."

Sterling looked at the photograph. The ring was old—gold, tarnished, the wolf's eyes were rubies. It was the same ring Xerxes had worn at the meeting.

"Where is it now?" he asked.

"Xerxes has it. But he doesn't know what it means."

"What does it mean?"

"The wolf is your father. The snake is your mother. The ring is a confession. A symbol of his guilt."

"I know that already."

"But you don't know the rest." Petra leaned forward. "The ring has a twin."

Sterling frowned. "A twin?"

"Your father had two rings made. One for himself. One for your mother. When she died, the ring disappeared. But it's still out there. And whoever has it—they know the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth about your father. About his deal with Xerxes. About the traitor."

Sterling's heart was pounding. "Who has the second ring?"

"I don't know. But I know where to start looking."

"Where?"

Petra looked at him. Her eyes were serious. "The Don's council. Someone there has the ring. Someone there is the traitor."

"The council is loyal."

"The council is human. And humans betray."

Sterling didn't know what to say. He'd trusted the council. He'd trusted Olympia. He'd trusted Yvonne.

"One more thing," Petra said. "The Don made a deal with Xerxes. But it wasn't the deal Xerxes thinks it was."

"What do you mean?"

"Xerxes thinks the Don sold him the family. But the Don was smarter than that. He made a deal to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From the truth. From the ring. From whoever is hunting you."

Sterling stared at her. "Who's hunting me?"

Petra walked to the window. She looked at the city. The rain was falling again, soft and steady.

"The same person who killed your mother," she said. "The same person who killed your father. The same person who wants you dead."

She turned.

"And they're closer than you think."

---

Sterling left the penthouse at dawn. The city was waking up—lights turning on, cars starting, people moving. He walked through the streets, his mind racing.

Two rings. A traitor on the council. A killer who wanted him dead.

He thought about the Don's final words. I was the traitor. I betrayed everything.

What had the Don betrayed? The family? The code? His own son?

Sterling didn't know. But he knew one thing: he was running out of time.

He pulled out his phone. He dialed a number.

"Vincenzo," he said. "I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Look into the council. Every member. Every secret. Every connection."

"You think someone on the council is the traitor?"

"I think someone on the council has the ring. And I think they're planning to use it."

"Against who?"

"Against me."

Vincenzo was silent for a moment. "I'll get started."

"One more thing. Petra Landi. She's Xerxes's consigliere. She claims she wants to help."

"You trust her?"

"I don't trust anyone."

"Smart."

Sterling hung up. He looked at the city. The sun was rising, painting the sky pink and gold. It was beautiful. It was a lie.

He thought about his mother. Elena. She'd died for him. The Don had killed her. And now someone else was trying to finish the job.

He thought about the ring. The wolf and the snake. Two rings. Two truths.

He thought about the Don's letter. Your father.

He was the Don's son. The heir. The future of the family.

But first, he had to survive.

He walked to the car. He got in. He drove.

The hunt continued.