Chapter 1: Mystery Below The Lobby

Sal Moretti stood at the window of his penthouse apartment, gazing out at the glittering city below. He felt a sense of pride and power as he surveyed the streets that he controlled. He was the king of New York, and no one dared to challenge him.

As he turned away from the window, Sal saw his daughter, Isabella, standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress that clung to her curves, and her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders.

"Hey, Dad," Isabella said, as she walked over to him. "What's on your mind?"

Sal took a sip of his whiskey and looked at his daughter. "I just got some bad news. Enzo's been hit."

Isabella's eyes widened in shock. "What? Is he okay?"

Sal shook his head. "No, he's dead. Someone got to him."

Isabella's face paled, and she looked down at the floor. "Who could have done this?"

"I don't know yet," Sal replied. "But I'll find out. And when I do, they'll pay for what they've done."

Isabella nodded, then looked up at her father. "What can I do to help?"

Sal smiled at his daughter. "You just stay out of this, Isabella. This is not your fight."

"But Dad, Enzo was like family to me. I want to help."

Sal shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, Isabella, but this is dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."

Isabella sighed, then nodded in resignation. "Okay, Dad. I'll stay out of it."

Sal patted his daughter's shoulder, then turned to leave the room. "I'm going to the office. I need to talk to some people."

As he left the room, Isabella felt a sense of unease settle over her. She knew that her father was heading into a dangerous situation, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Sal arrived at his office to find his men waiting for him. They were a motley crew of enforcers, hitmen, and spies, all loyal to the Moretti family.

"What happened to Enzo?" one of the men asked.

"He's dead," Sal replied. "We need to find out who did this."

The men nodded, then began to discuss possible leads and suspects. They all knew that whoever was responsible for Enzo's death would face the wrath of Sal Moretti.

As they talked, the phone rang. Sal answered it, and a voice on the other end told him that there was a package waiting for him downstairs.

Sal hung up the phone, then looked at his men. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

He headed down to the lobby of the building, where a man in a black suit was waiting for him. The man handed Sal a small package, then disappeared into the crowd.

Sal opened the package to find a note inside. It was written in elegant script, and it read:

"Sal Moretti, you have made a grave mistake. Your days are numbered."

Sal crumpled the note in his hand, then turned to head back upstairs. But as he stepped into the elevator, he felt a sharp pain in his chest.

He looked down to see a small dart sticking out of his shirt. He tried to pull it out, but it was too late. His vision began to blur, and he slumped to the ground.

As the elevator doors closed, Sal could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. He knew that he was in trouble, and he had no idea how he was going to get out of it.

As Isabella sat in the penthouse, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. She knew her father had gone to his office to discuss Enzo's death with his men, but he should have been back by now.

Her unease grew into anxiety as the minutes ticked by. She tried calling his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She knew that something had to be wrong, and she couldn't sit around and wait any longer.

Isabella grabbed her purse and headed out the door. She had to find out what had happened to her father.

As she made her way to the elevator, her mind was racing. She knew that her father was in a dangerous business, but she never thought that something like this would happen to him.

As the elevator doors opened, Isabella saw a group of her father's men waiting outside. They were all dressed in suits and looked like they meant business.

"Isabella," one of the men said, stepping forward. "You can't go down there."

"Why not?" Isabella demanded. "What's going on?"

"We don't know," the man replied. "Your father went down to the lobby, but he hasn't come back up. We're going down to check it out."

Isabella's heart sank. She knew that something was seriously wrong.

"I'm coming with you," she said, stepping into the elevator. The men protested, but Isabella ignored them. She had to see for herself what had happened to her father.

As the elevator doors opened, they saw a scene of chaos. There were people running in all directions, and police cars had surrounded the building. Isabella saw her father's men fighting off the police, trying to get to the lobby.

Isabella's heart pounded in her chest as she pushed her way through the crowd. She finally reached the lobby, where she saw her father lying on the ground, surrounded by his men.

"Dad!" she cried, rushing to his side.

Sal was barely conscious, but he managed to open his eyes and look up at his daughter.

"Isabella," he whispered. "You shouldn't have come."

"What happened, Dad?" Isabella asked, her voice shaking.

Sal coughed, then spoke in a hoarse voice. "I was drugged. Someone wanted to take me out. But they failed."

Isabella's eyes widened. "Who did this to you?"

Sal shook his head. "I don't know. But we'll find out. And when we do, they'll pay."

As the police closed in, Sal's men lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him out of the building. Isabella followed, feeling a sense of dread wash over her.

She knew that her father was in trouble, and she had to find out who was behind this. She would stop at nothing to protect her family and get revenge on those who had dared to cross them.