The Mafia's Nemesis

Two decades earlier….. “Roberta, pack your things….now!” Gabrielle’s voice trembled as he burst through the front door, his eyes wide with a terror that chilled the night. Rain lashed the windows, each drop echoing his pounding heart. In the dim foyer, Roberta Moreau stood frozen, a worn shawl wrapped tightly around her. Their eight‐year‐old daughter, Elena, slept unaware in her room, dreams soon to be shattered. “Gabrielle, what did you see? Why are you so scared?” Roberta demanded, her voice a mixture of worry and disbelief. Gabrielle’s whole body quivered as he fumbled with the keys to a battered duffel bag on the hall table. “I found something tonight, a secret I wasn’t meant to know. We must leave immediately. Trust me.” Roberta’s eyes searched for him, desperate for an explanation. “Tell me, please. What did you do?” He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I crossed a line… I uncovered something... something related to the mafia.” His hand shook so violently that he nearly dropped the bag. Roberta’s face turned ashen. “The Mafias? Gabrielle, what are you talking about?” Before he could reply, his voice broke into a terrified plea: “Pack, Roberta. We must flee now!” From upstairs, a soft whimper interrupted their conversation. Roberta’s eyes darted to the door leading to their daughter’s room. “Elena!” she cried urgently. “Wake up, sweetheart we need to leave.” A sharp sound, a gunshot ripped through the silence. Gabrielle’s anguished scream echoed. They home have been invaded Roberta’s heart shattered. “Gabrielle, no!” she cried as masked men stormed the house. Their harsh voices filled the hall, demanding, “Where is the document? Show it to us, now!” and berating him for “crossing boundaries.” Inside the dim bedroom, little Elena stirred. Roberta rushed into young Elena's room, panic etched on her face. “Elena, come with me. Don’t make a sound, okay? Please, don’t cry.” Tears glistened in the child’s eyes as Roberta swiftly tucked her into a cramped closet, pressing a trembling finger to her lips. “Stay here. Under no circumstances must you come out, even if you hear anything.” Before Roberta could utter another word she was mercilessly dragged out to the room. Inside the closet, young Elena trembled in silence, clutching her teddy bear. In the muffled chaos, she could make out snatches of words with the name “Morretti” sliced through the air like a curse. A gunshot, louder this time, shattered the fragile calm. Gabrielle screamed, pleading, “Please release me! I promise to remain silent”. His voice was raw with pain and terror, a sinister laughter filled the room, before he could finish his desperate vow of silence, another shot rang out twice. Elena wanted to scream but stifled her cry, pressing a small hand over her mouth as her heart pounded in terror. Footsteps approached the closet door, and a cold, commanding voice echoed, “There’s no one left. Burn it all…. Destroy any evidence.” Fortunately they didn't discover her. The words blurred into a cacophony of fear. Elena nearly wet herself, paralyzed by horror as the invaders left the building. The house was soon engulfed in choking smoke and searing flames. After what felt like an eternity, young Elena finally emerged from the closet to find the living room in ruins. Under the flickering light of the lamps, Gabrielle cradled a lifeless Roberta, his head marred by a bullet wound, another lodged in his shoulder while her own body lay motionless, a fatal bullet in her chest. Elena’s silent cries echoed in the darkness as toxic fumes and overwhelming grief stole her consciousness. When she awoke, the world was a blur of blinding white lights and the shrill sound of sirens. Strapped to a barrow in the back of an ambulance, her vision was hazy, and the scent of antiseptic mixed with the bitter tang of smoke and blood. In a fleeting, disorienting moment, she caught sight of paramedics hauling her parents’ bodies out of the burning building. A disembodied voice on the radio announced, “Mafia strikes again, another hit confirmed.” In that instant, as the weight of her loss bore down upon her, Elena Moreau’s heart hardened with a single, searing thought: Morretti. Her father had been a good man, a detective who dared to expose the dark underbelly of a corrupt world. Now, that same darkness had stolen everything from her. Bitter vengeance burned in her young heart, a promise forged in the fires of grief. She didn’t know how or where to start, but one thing was clear: she would find the truth. As the ambulance raced through rain-slicked streets, a final chilling whisper echoed in her fading consciousness: “No one is ever truly safe when the mafia rules the night.” Elena Moreau closed her eyes, her world collapsing into darkness. In that silence, a vow was born, a vow of revenge that would one day change everything.