Chapter 4 - The Velvet Threat
The morning mist swirled between us like a ghost. Vivien didn’t drop the garden shears; she held them loosely at her side, her thumb tracing the steel blade with rhythmic precision.
“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time in the servants’ quarters this morning, Lorenzo,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “My maid told me you were having an intimate conversation with Elena. Is there something about our staff you haven't shared with your bride-to-be?”
I didn't blink. “Elena has worked for this family for seven years, Vivien. Her husband died in service to the Duca name. I make it a habit to check on those who bleed for me.”
“How noble,” she sneered, dropping the polite facade just enough to let the venom seep through. “Though I hear Marco’s accident was terribly tragic. Brakes failing on a rainy highway... such unpredictable things happen in Chicago. It would be a shame if tragedy struck his surviving family as well. Especially little Mia. She’s such a fragile little thing, isn't she?”
My hand slipped inside my jacket, resting on the cold grip of the customized Beretta holstered beneath my left arm. The urge to end her right there among my mother’s roses throbbed behind my temples. But a bullet would be too clean. Too quick. I needed every snake in the grass exposed before I brought down the hammer.
“Mia is under my personal protection, Vivien,” I said, my voice dropping so low it seemed to vibrate against the gravel. “And anyone who touches a child in this city usually ends up at the bottom of the lake before sunrise. Don't you agree?”
Vivien’s eyes flickered with a flash of genuine unease, but she masked it instantly with a crystalline laugh. “Of course, darling. I was only expressing concern. We wouldn’t want any accidents casting a shadow over our wedding next week.”
She turned on her heel and strode back toward the mansion, her cashmere coat billowing behind her like a shroud.
I didn't watch her retreat. I walked straight to my study, locked the reinforced doors, and plugged the encrypted USB drive into my isolated terminal.
The decryption protocol took twelve minutes. When the files finally unlocked, the audio files loaded into the player.
The first recording played: the voice of Vivien’s father, Richard Vance, along with her brother Julian, sitting inside a downtown Chicago boardroom six years ago.
“The hit on Lorenzo’s father is scheduled for midnight,” Julian’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Once the old man is dead, we slowly bankrupt their supply lines. And if Lorenzo survives, we position Vivien to marry him. In five years, the entire Duca empire will belong to the Vance family.”
Then a woman’s voice spoke on the tape.
A younger Vivien.
“Make sure Marco’s car is taken care of first,” Vivien said with chilling clarity. “He’s Isabella’s shadow. If he suspects anything, the wedding plan is dead before it starts.”
My breath hitched in my chest.
Vivien hadn't just plotted my father’s downfall. She was the one who had murdered Elena’s husband.
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Suddenly, my private cell phone buzzed on the mahogany desk. It was Rocco.
“Boss, we just intercepted Julian Vance’s encrypted comms,” Rocco said urgently. “The Moretti syndicate called in his debt. They gave him forty-eight hours. Julian and his crew are moving on your estate tonight during your dinner party. They aren't waiting for the wedding, Lorenzo. They’re coming to kill you in your own house.”
