Chapter 4 - Dinner with the Syndicate
The dining room at the Montauk estate looked like a banquet hall from a Gothic novel. A massive mahogany table stretched down the center of the room, lit by dozens of flickering candles and laden with roasted meats, silver goblets, and crystal decanters.
Evelyn sat at the opposite end of the table from Dante, feeling like a prisoner of war being paraded before her captor's inner circle.
Three men sat along the flanks of the table: Marcus Thorne, Dante’s chief legal counsel; Julian Vance, a ruthless shipping magnate with cold, reptilian eyes; and Silas Vance, Julian’s younger brother and the Syndicate’s primary enforcer.
"Fifty million, boss?" Silas laughed, swirling amber liquid in his glass. "That's a steep price for a baker from Brooklyn. Even if she does look good in emerald. Are we sure she's the right Sterling? What if Victor swapped her out years ago?"
Evelyn’s grip on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white. She opened her mouth to snap a reply, but Dante raised a single finger, silencing the table instantly.
"Silas," Dante said, his voice dropping into a register that made the massive enforcer shrink back in his chair. "The girl stays because she is valuable. And she speaks when spoken to—a rule I suggest you remember if you enjoy having teeth."
Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating. Julian Vance cleared his throat, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "Dante, the board is getting restless. The Newark docks are still operating at half capacity, and the federal task force is sniffing around our shipping manifests in Miami. If Victor Sterling doesn't surface within forty-eight hours, the Syndicate is going to take matters into their own hands."
"Let them try," Dante replied calmly, cutting a piece of meat with absolute precision. "Victor isn't hiding from the FBI. He's hiding from me. And he won't stay in the shadows once he realizes what I've done with his daughter."
Evelyn stared down at her plate, her stomach churning. "You're using me as bait," she said, her voice cutting through the clatter of silverware. "You don't care about the fifty million, and you don't care about the hard drives. You want Victor to come out into the open so you can execute him."
Dante paused, his knife hovering over his plate. He looked down the length of the table straight into her eyes. "Victor Sterling murdered twelve of my men, Evelyn. In my world, blood demands blood. That isn't justice; it's arithmetic."
"And what happens to me after the math is done?" Evelyn challenged, standing up so abruptly her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. "Once my father is dead and your hard drives are recovered, what do you do with the collateral? Do you sell me off to the highest bidder in another underground auction?"
The dining room went dead silent. Even Julian Vance stopped breathing.
Dante set his knife down slowly. He didn't raise his voice when he answered, but every word carried the weight of an executioner's axe.
"Sit down, Evelyn."
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"Answer me!" she demanded.
"When this is over," Dante said, his dark eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity, "you won't be sold. Because by the time I'm finished with Victor Sterling, there won't be anyone left in this world with a better claim to the Bellamy empire than the woman who helped me burn his kingdom to the ground."
