Chapter 3 - The Interrogation in the Study
The private study on the third floor of Villa Moretti was paneled in dark mahogany and lined with leather-bound first-edition books. A roaring fire crackled in the grand hearth, casting dancing shadows across the Persian rug—the very rug Vivian had shrieked over earlier that evening.
Julian Vance sat rigidly in an oversized leather armchair, sweating profusely despite the cool autumn air coming through the cracked window. Two armed guards stood silently on either side of the door, their hands resting over their holsters.
The heavy oak door swung open, and Alessandro walked in, followed closely by Marco. Alessandro didn't sit down. He crossed the room slowly, tossing a small rubberized flash drive onto the wooden desk right in front of Julian.
Julian flinched as if the plastic chip were a live grenade.
"Recognize that, Julian?" Alessandro asked softly, leaning against the edge of the desk.
Julian forced a nervous, high-pitched laugh. "Mr. Moretti... I'm not sure what executive toy you've found now, but my department handles corporate portfolios, not—"
"Save the performance," Alessandro cut him off, his voice cutting like a razor. "That drive was pulled from the lining of a child’s toy. A toy that contained encrypted wire routing numbers linked directly to your personal Swiss accounts at Apex Holdings."
The color completely vanished from Julian’s face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow gasps.
"You've been selling our logistics to the international cartels," Alessandro continued, stepping closer. "You traded the safety of my men for offshore deposits. How much did they pay you, Julian? A million? Five? Is a bank account in the Caymans worth your life?"
"I had no choice!" Julian finally blurted out, breaking down as he covered his face with trembling hands. "They threatened my family! They said if I didn't funnel the data through dead-drops, my wife and son wouldn't see the sunrise!"
"Who?" Alessandro demanded, grabbing Julian by the lapel of his tailored suit and jerking him out of the chair. "Who gave the orders, Julian?"
Before Julian could utter a name, a sharp, piercing sound cut through the night air outside the window.
Crack.
A high-velocity sniper round tore through the double-paned glass of the study window, shattering the crystal decanter on the side table and embedding itself deep into the mahogany bookshelf behind Alessandro.
"Sniper!" Marco roared, diving tackle-style to shove Alessandro to the floor while drawing his sidearm.
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Julian Vance let out a gurgling cry. A second round punched through the window with terrifying precision, striking Julian squarely in the chest. He collapsed backward over the leather chair, his blood pooling onto the Persian rug as life faded from his eyes in a matter of seconds.
"Lock down the perimeter!" Alessandro shouted over the comms, scrambling back to his feet despite Marco's protective shield. "Sector Four! Someone is shooting from the estate gardens!"
