Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
The basement vault of the Moretti estate was cold, damp, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. Luke sat shivering on a metal folding chair, his expensive designer clothes torn, covered in grease, and his face streaked with tears. When the heavy steel door creaked open, he jumped like a frightened rabbit.
I walked into the room accompanied by Mateo, carrying a single leather folder under my arm. I had changed into an immaculate black tailored suit, my dark hair pulled back into a sharp ponytail.
""Claire! Claire, please!"" Luke begged, scrambling forward until Mateo’s hand pressed against his chest, forcing him back into the chair. ""You have to help me! Tell Gabriel I didn't know the guard had a gun! I didn't know Callahan was using real ammunition! I just wanted my money back!""
""Shut up, Luke,"" I said quietly, pulling out a second chair and sitting down directly across from him.
The cold authority in my voice instantly silenced him. He looked at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, realizing that the gentle, accommodating woman who used to bake him pastries and laugh at his mediocre jokes was entirely dead. In her place sat the rightful Duchess of the Moretti syndicate.
""Here is what is going to happen,"" I said, opening the folder and laying three legal documents in front of him.
""First, this is a full confession detailing every illegal transaction orchestrated by Senator Callahan and Callahan Logistics over the past three years. You will sign every single page, admitting to your role as their courier.""
""If I sign that, Callahan will have me killed!"" Luke cried out.
""Callahan is currently being arrested by federal marshals at his home in Gold Coast,"" I replied smoothly. ""We delivered the bearer bonds and the encrypted server logs to the U.S. Attorney’s office two hours ago. Callahan is finished. His daughter Isabella has already boarded a private flight to Switzerland to escape indictment. She didn't even mention your name to the authorities, Luke. You were disposable to her from day one.""
Luke lowered his head, a choked sob escaping his throat. ""And what happens to me?""
""That brings us to document number two,"" I continued without a shred of pity. ""A complete, irrevocable surrender of your family name, your inheritance, and your corporate shares. You are resigning from all Moretti holdings. Effective today, you are legally dead to the trust.""
""And document three?"" he asked in a hollow whisper.
""A one-way ticket to a remote logistics depot in northern Alaska,"" I said, sliding an airline itinerary across the metal table. ""Gabriel spared your life because of the blood you share. But you will never set foot in Illinois again. You will work in cargo inventory in negative-thirty-degree weather, earning an honest minimum wage, until you learn the value of loyalty. If you ever return to Chicago, Mateo won't bother locking you in a basement. He will simply drop you in the middle of Lake Michigan.""
Luke looked down at the pen trembling in his hand. He looked at Mateo, who stood with his arms crossed, cold and unyielding. Then he looked at me.
""You really love him, don't you?"" Luke asked, the bitter realization finally dawning on him. ""You looked at my broken, terrifying brother and you fell in love with him.""
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""Gabriel has scars on his body, Luke,"" I said, standing up and buttoning my blazer. ""You have scars on your soul. He took bullets to protect his family. You sold yours for a political dinner party. Sign the papers and get out of my sight.""
Luke wept silently as his pen scratched against the paper, signing away everything he had ever coveted.
