Chapter 7 - The Cleansing of the Penthouse
By 3:00 AM, the armored convoy pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Lake Forest estate.
The estate was magnificent—a sprawling stone manor surrounded by pine trees heavy with snow. The interior was warm, quiet, and filled with the scent of burning cedar wood from grand stone fireplaces.
Enzo led Nora upstairs to the master suite—a massive, warm room featuring a king-sized bed covered in goose-down comforters, a private fireplace, and an adjoining bathroom with a heated marble floor.
A elderly housekeeper, a sweet-faced Italian woman named Rosa who had worked for Enzo's mother thirty years ago, met them at the door with a tray of hot soup and fresh bread.
"Oh, sweet child," Rosa wept softly, taking one look at Nora's pale face and heavy stomach. "Look at what he let happen to you. Come, sit down by the fire."
Enzo stood near the bedroom door, watching as Rosa helped Nora take off her boots and wrapped her in a plush wool robe.
Nora looked up at him across the room, her eyes heavy with sleep. "Where are you going?"
Enzo adjusted the cuffs of his dark shirt, his face hardening into an expression of lethal, absolute purpose.
"I have a mess to clean up at the penthouse," Enzo said smoothly. "Sleep, Nora. Rocco and ten of my best men are guarding this floor. You are completely safe."
He turned and walked down the grand staircase, where Rocco was waiting with four armed operators.
"Is the penthouse secured?" Enzo asked as he pulled on black leather driving gloves.
"Vittoria is asleep in the master bedroom," Rocco reported, his tone grim. "Her father's men are stationed at the lobby entrance."
"Disarm her father's men," Enzo ordered, his voice dropping into the quiet, terrifying register that signaled blood. "Throw them out into the street. If they resist, shoot them."
"And Vittoria?"
Enzo's gray eyes flashed like polished steel in the chandelier light. "I am going to pack her bags myself."
Thirty minutes later, the double doors of the thirty-first-floor penthouse were thrown open with a crash.
Vittoria Salerno sat up in the master bed, her silk eye mask pulled up, screaming in rage as Enzo walked into the room, followed by two guards carrying heavy leather wardrobe trunks.
"Enzo! What the hell is the meaning of this?!" Vittoria shrieked, wrapping a silk robe around herself. "Your men disarmed my father's guards in the lobby! Are you insane?!"
Enzo didn't answer. He walked over to her walk-in closet, grabbed a armful of her designer dresses on their wooden hangers, and threw them violently into the open trunk on the floor.
"Get out," Enzo said.
Vittoria froze, her face going pale. "What did you say?"
"Get out of my house," Enzo repeated, turning to face her, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. "Our engagement is terminated. Your father's shipping rights at the docks are revoked as of 4:00 AM."
"You can't do this!" Vittoria screamed, rushing toward him, her face contorted in fury. "My father will start a war! He will wipe the Marchetti family off the map! You need our alliance!"
Enzo caught her by the wrist before she could touch him, his grip like a vise of forged steel.
"Your father is a vulture, Vittoria," Enzo whispered, leaning down until his dark eyes burned into hers. "And you are a cruel, shallow viper who stood in my study four months ago and insulted a woman worth ten thousand of you."
Vittoria blinked, confusion breaking through her rage. "What are you talking about? What woman?!"
Enzo leaned closer, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.
May you like
"The maid," Enzo said. "The clumsy little idiot whose hands you laughed at while she cried on my rug. She is carrying my twin heirs. And if you or your father ever step within ten miles of her, I will not start a war, Vittoria—I will end your family line in a single night."
He shoved her back toward the bed, turned on his heel, and walked out of the penthouse forever.
