I’m Still a Man, Anna—Do You Think I’m Incapable?” The Wheelchair-Bound Mafia Boss Demanded
PART 2
The ballroom glittered beneath chandeliers.
Politicians.
Business executives.
Old-money families.
Men whose names appeared on charitable foundations and criminal investigations with equal frequency.
Anna stood beside Vincent wearing an emerald gown she had chosen herself after rejecting three options his stylist sent.
Vincent noticed.
“You rejected the diamonds.”
“I’m already wearing one large contractual symbol.”
She raised her left hand.
“The necklace seemed excessive.”
Vincent looked at her wedding ring.
“That joke was almost insulting.”
“It was entirely insulting.”
He smiled.
A genuine one.
Anna discovered she liked earning those.
Then Carmine DeLuca approached.
Silver-haired.
Heavy-set.
A rival who had been testing Moretti interests since Vincent’s injury.
“Vincent.”
“Carmine.”
They shook hands.
DeLuca glanced at the wheelchair.
“Good to see you outside.”
Vincent answered:
“Good to see your shipping problems haven’t ruined your appetite.”
DeLuca’s smile tightened.
Anna understood immediately.
Vincent’s plan regarding the Jersey ports had worked.
He had responded without open violence.
Matteo had been wrong.
DeLuca turned toward Anna.
“And this must be the bride.”
Anna extended a hand.
“Anna Moretti.”
“Beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
DeLuca looked toward Vincent.
“Almost makes a man jealous.”
Then:
“Must be a demanding marriage for such a young woman.”
The implication hung between them.
Anna saw Vincent’s jaw tighten.
Before he spoke, she did.
“Not especially.”
DeLuca raised an eyebrow.
Anna continued:
“Vincent manages several hundred million dollars in legitimate holdings before breakfast.”
“I imagine that requires more energy than most men expend walking across ballrooms.”
Nearby conversation stopped.
DeLuca stared.
Anna smiled politely.
“And judging by what happened to your port schedule this week, mobility does not appear to be the business advantage you believe it is.”
Vincent looked at her.
Matteo, standing nearby, nearly inhaled his drink.
DeLuca flushed.
“You have an outspoken wife.”
Vincent answered:
“She has an unfortunate allergy to stupidity.”
DeLuca walked away.
Matteo leaned toward Vincent.
“You’re encouraging this?”
Vincent’s eyes went cold.
“I’m appreciating competence.”
“Try it sometime.”
Matteo left.
Anna exhaled.
Vincent turned toward her.
“You didn’t need to defend me.”
“I wasn’t defending you.”
“What were you doing?”
“Insulting him.”
Vincent stared.
Then laughed.
A low, surprised sound.
That was the exact moment the lights went out.
Music stopped.
Confusion moved through the room.
Then people screamed.
Vincent’s demeanor changed instantly.
He caught Anna’s wrist.
“Down.”
She crouched beside his chair.
Security personnel began moving.
Leo’s voice sounded somewhere in the darkness.
Vincent listened.
Not panicked.
Calculating.
Then he said:
“This is internal.”
Anna looked at him.
“What?”
“Someone knew the security plan.”
“Matteo?”
Vincent did not answer.
That was answer enough.
A security team reached them and moved Vincent and Anna through a service corridor.
The evacuation became chaotic.
Guests pushed.
Hotel employees shouted.
Alarms sounded.
Anna lost one shoe.
Then the other.
By the time they reached a manager’s office deep inside the service area, her feet were cut from broken glass and her breathing came too quickly.
Vincent locked the door behind them.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“So might you.”
His expression softened.
“I’m not.”
“You might not feel an injury below—”
Vincent stiffened.
Anna immediately realized what she had said.
Not the concern.
The assumption behind it.
She rushed toward him anyway.
“I need to check.”
“Anna.”
“You don’t know—”
“I checked.”
Heavy footsteps approached outside.
Anna froze.
Vincent’s entire focus moved toward the door.
“Behind me.”
She stared.
“No.”
“Anna.”
“You can’t maneuver quickly in here.”
His eyes flashed.
“You think that makes me helpless?”
“I think it makes this room terrible for you.”
“That is not the same thing.”
The footsteps stopped.
Anna looked around.
Desk.
Cabinet.
One useless letter opener.
She picked it up.
Vincent stared.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“You are not standing in front of me with office stationery.”
“What would you prefer?”
“That you get behind the concrete wall.”
The door shook under impact.
Anna stepped in front of Vincent.
His hand closed around her waist and pulled her firmly aside.
“Anna.”
His voice was low.
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
“But do not turn my chair into a reason to die for me.”
She stared at him.
For the first time she understood his anger.
People assumed inability before asking.
They erased the things he could do because of the one thing he could not.
Anna moved behind the wall.
Vincent handled the immediate danger with Leo’s arriving security team.
No theatrical slaughter.
No proving masculinity through blood.
Just controlled response.
Within minutes, loyal security regained the corridor.
Leo entered.
“Matteo disappeared.”
Vincent’s face became expressionless.
“DeLuca?”
“Gone.”
Anna looked at Vincent.
“You were right.”
“About?”
“Internal.”
Leo handed Vincent a phone.
“Matteo’s credentials accessed the security architecture before the blackout.”
Vincent stared at the screen.
There it was.
Betrayal.
He had seen ambition.
He underestimated how quickly Matteo would act.
Vincent looked at Anna.
“Are you hurt?”
“My feet.”
Leo glanced down.
“Medic.”
Anna shook her head.
“Later.”
Vincent said:
“Now.”
She looked at him.
He added:
“That wasn’t a command about obedience.”
“It was concern.”
The distinction made her pause.
“Fine.”
They left through a secured loading entrance.
Inside the armored van, Manhattan blurred past.
Anna sat opposite Vincent.
He seemed calmer than everyone else.
Too calm.
“What happens now?”
Vincent looked out the window.
“Matteo expects me to respond emotionally.”
“Will you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Vincent turned.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’ve met emotional Vincent.”
“He grabs wrists and throws folders.”
The reminder hit.
“You don’t forgive easily.”
“I forgave you.”
“You remember efficiently.”
“That too.”
He studied her.
Then asked:
“Why did you stand in front of me?”
Anna answered honestly.
“I was afraid.”
“For me?”
“For both of us.”
Vincent nodded.
Then:
“Never do that again.”
“What?”
“Treat yourself as expendable because you think I’m less capable.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Anna stopped.
He was right.
Not completely.
But enough.
Vincent continued:
“I lost function in my legs.”
“I did not lose judgment.”
“I did not lose authority.”
“I did not lose the ability to protect people.”
He met her eyes.
“And I did not stop being a man.”
Anna said quietly:
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She leaned forward.
“But you need to understand something too.”
Vincent waited.
“I’m not fragile because I’m your wife.”
“I’m not decoration.”
“I’m not something you lock away whenever danger appears.”
His expression hardened.
“I will protect you.”
“You can.”
“And I can still make decisions.”
They stared at each other.
Then Vincent said:
“This marriage is becoming inconvenient.”
Anna smiled.
“For you?”
“Constantly.”
The van continued north.
Neither noticed how close their hands rested on the seat between them.
PART 3
Vincent did not begin a war.
That disappointed several men who still believed leadership required explosions.
Instead, he spent forty-eight hours following money.
Access logs.
Phone records.
Port contracts.
Security credentials.
Matteo had made one fatal mistake.
He assumed Vincent’s power came from physical intimidation.
He forgot the organization had grown because Vincent understood systems.
By the second evening, Leo had identified nearly every account Matteo used.
By the third, several capos quietly withdrew support.
Carmine DeLuca discovered that his own business partners suddenly considered the alliance too expensive.
Vincent watched everything from a steel conference table at a secure Moretti property in the Bronx.
Anna remained nearby.
Not serving coffee.
Not acting as nurse.
Watching.
Learning.
At one point Vincent asked:
“Why are you still here?”
“Because you brought me.”
“I mean in the room.”
“You told me I wasn’t decoration.”
“That was before I discovered you listen to every conversation.”
Anna smiled.
“You married badly.”
Vincent almost laughed.
Then Leo entered.
“We found Matteo.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn shipyard property.”
“How many men?”
“Enough to make a direct approach stupid.”
Vincent nodded.
“Then we won’t make one.”
Anna exhaled.
Leo continued.
“One more thing.”
He placed several documents on the table.
“Matteo has been moving money for months.”
“Some of it traces back to the car bombing.”
The room went completely silent.
Vincent looked at the papers.
His driver had died in that explosion.
Vincent had awakened in a hospital unable to move his legs.
Doctors explaining spinal damage.
Months learning transfers.
Balance.
Pressure injuries.
New architecture for a body he did not recognize.
All while Matteo visited twice weekly pretending loyalty.
Vincent said:
“He was involved?”
“Indirectly.”
“Looks like DeLuca financed it.”
“Matteo supplied route information.”
Anna watched the change in Vincent’s face.
Not rage.
Worse.
Grief with nowhere to go.
“Leave us.”
Leo looked at Anna.
Then Vincent.
He left.
Vincent stared at the documents.
Anna remained silent.
Finally:
“You can say it.”
“What?”
“That I should have seen him.”
“No.”
“Everyone else will.”
“I’m not everyone else.”
“He sat at my table.”
“Visited the hospital.”
“Helped coordinate security after the attack.”
Anna sat opposite him.
“That means he was convincing.”
“It means I failed.”
“No.”
Vincent looked up sharply.
Anna continued.
“You are not responsible for somebody else being good at betrayal.”
“I put him in position.”
“Yes.”
“You trusted him.”
“Yes.”
“And now you know.”
Vincent laughed without humor.
“Simple.”
“No.”
“Painful.”
“Different.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“How did you become this irritating?”
“University.”
“That expensive?”
“Very.”
Vincent’s expression softened.
Then he asked:
“Do you regret signing?”
Anna knew immediately what he meant.
The marriage.
She looked at the ring.
“Some days.”
He nodded.
The answer hurt.
She continued:
“But not for the reason you think.”
Vincent waited.
“I regret that my father put me in a position where signing felt like the only way to stop everything collapsing.”
“That isn’t the same as regretting knowing you.”
Vincent said nothing.
Anna added:
“Those are separate questions.”
He looked toward the door.
“Your year ends in eight months.”
“I know.”
“I will honor the agreement.”
“I know.”
“Even if…”
He stopped.
Anna understood.
Even if this became real.
She stood.
Walked around the table.
Then crouched beside his chair, not beneath him, not above him.
At eye level.
“Vincent.”
He looked at her.
“When the year comes, I want to choose.”
“That is the entire point.”
“No.”
“You still think the choice is stay or leave.”
“What else is there?”
Anna answered:
“Choose you.”
That silenced him.
Then she kissed him.
Briefly.
Deliberately.
Her choice.
Vincent did not pull her closer.
Did not assume more.
He simply looked at her after she withdrew.
“Was that pity?”
Anna smiled.
“Say that again and I’ll annul early.”
For the first time since his injury, Vincent laughed without bitterness.
The next morning, they addressed Matteo.
Not at the shipyard.
Not alone.
Vincent arranged something Matteo did not expect.
A meeting.
Every senior Moretti capo present.
Several neutral representatives.
Financial records distributed.
Evidence of Matteo’s betrayal documented.
Vincent entered the warehouse in his wheelchair beside Leo.
Anna remained at the secure location.
Not because Vincent ordered her.
Because they discussed it.
And she chose not to attend a confrontation that had nothing to do with proving loyalty.
Matteo stood at the center.
His supporters around him.
He smiled when Vincent approached.
“So the Iron Wolf finally leaves his bunker.”
Vincent stopped.
“You wanted an audience.”
“I brought one.”
Matteo glanced toward the watching capos.
His confidence flickered.
Vincent placed documents on a table.
“Money received from DeLuca.”
“Security schedules transferred.”
“Vehicle route provided before my bombing.”
“Hotel access provided before the gala.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“You think papers decide leadership?”
“Yes.”
“When they prove you tried to murder the man whose organization you expect to inherit.”
Matteo laughed.
“You’re finished anyway.”
He gestured toward the chair.
“Look at you.”
Nobody moved.
Matteo continued:
“A boss leads from the front.”
“You can’t even stand.”
Vincent’s expression remained calm.
“That has been your obsession.”
“What?”
“My legs.”
“You’ve spent six months staring at what stopped working.”
Vincent looked around the warehouse.
“You never noticed everything that still did.”
Several of Matteo’s men lowered their eyes.
Vincent continued.
“My accounts.”
“My alliances.”
“My information.”
“My judgment.”
“My people.”
“Most importantly—”
He looked directly at Matteo.
“Your loyalty was never as valuable as you thought.”
Leo stepped forward.
Then another capo.
Then another.
Matteo looked around.
His support had collapsed.
No shootout.
No fifty-man siege.
Just isolation.
Vincent had defeated him before arriving.
Matteo’s voice became smaller.
“What happens now?”
Vincent could have ordered his death.
Everyone expected it.
Old Vincent might have.
Instead:
“You disappear from my organization.”
Matteo stared.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
“Everything you stole returns.”
“Every company in your name is transferred.”
“Evidence tied to the bombing goes to people capable of making your life extremely legal and extremely unpleasant.”
Matteo went pale.
“You’d involve authorities?”
Vincent smiled coldly.
“I’ve discovered prisons are useful places for men who confuse loyalty with entitlement.”
Matteo spat:
“You’re weak.”
Vincent moved closer.
“No.”
“I’m simply tired of burying people because they disappoint me.”
He turned his chair.
“Leo.”
“Yes?”
“Make sure he leaves with nothing belonging to us.”
Vincent rolled away.
Behind him, Matteo screamed insults.
Half a man.
Cripple.
Coward.
Vincent did not turn around.
That was how the Iron Wolf returned.
Not through blood.
Through refusing to let another man define what strength required.
