Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
The words hung in the air like poison smoke.
I stared at Vanessa, my finger rested against the heavy trigger of my pistol. "Explain yourself. Now."
Vanessa walked slowly toward the fireplace, the hem of her burgundy dress whispering against the Persian rug. She leaned against the marble mantelpiece, looking up at the oil portrait of my late father, Arthur Moretti, hanging above the hearth.
"Your father was a monster, Adrian," Vanessa said softly, her tone devoid of emotion. "A brilliant, ruthless, bloodthirsty monster. He built this empire on the corpses of his rivals, his business partners, and even his own friends. And when I married him eleven years ago, I realized very quickly that the only way to survive in this house was to become more dangerous than he was."
"My father gave you everything," I spat. "Luxury, protection, respect."
"He gave me a golden leash!" Vanessa turned on me, her eyes flashing with a sudden, vicious fire. "He treated me like a decorative piece of furniture! And when your brother Roman found out about the offshore accounts your father kept hidden from the Syndicate, Roman came to me. He wanted to use that money to run away. To leave your family's bloody legacy behind."
"Roman loved this family," I asserted.
"Roman hated this family!" Vanessa snapped. "He hated you! He hated your father! He hated the fact that you were the dutiful, ruthless prince who inherited everything, while he was treated like a broken liability!"
She took a step closer to me, showing no fear of the barrel aimed at her heart.
"Four years ago, Roman didn't crash that car by accident, Adrian," she continued, her voice dropping to an intimate, terrifying whisper. "He staged it. With my help. We bought a body from the county morgue—a homeless man with Roman's physical build—and we blew that car up on Interstate 94. We divided twenty million dollars of your father's dark money, and Roman left the country."
My mind recoiled, rejecting the words even as my intellect recognized the terrifying truth behind them.
"Then who signed those papers?" I demanded, holding up the termination notice I had kept in my pocket. "Who put 'R.M.' on this page three days ago?"
Vanessa laughed—a quiet, musical, chilling sound. "Did you really think Roman stayed away, Adrian? He spent two years in South America spending his half of the money on drugs, gambling, and dangerous people. When he ran out of cash eighteen months ago, he came back. He came back to Chicago. He came back to me."
My heart pounded violently against my ribs. "Where is he?"
"He's been living in the Lake Forest estate," Vanessa whispered, her smile widening. "Using the biometric access codes your father left behind to siphon money from your corporate accounts. He forged Clara's signature because Clara caught him coming out of the library subterranean vault last week. He panicked. He wanted her fired before she could tell you."
"Roman is here?" I breathed, the reality crashing over me like a tidal wave. "Roman is in Chicago?"
"He was," Vanessa said, glancing at the gold watch on her wrist. "Until two hours ago. The moment he heard you were looking for Clara, he packed thirty million dollars in bearer bonds from the Lake Forest vault. He's on his way to the private airfield in Gary, Indiana. He leaves for Dubai at midnight."
She stepped right up to the barrel of my gun, pressing her chest against the cold steel.
"Shoot me, Adrian," she whispered venomously. "Go ahead. Kill your father's widow in her bedroom. But if you do, you'll never stop Roman. He isn't just stealing your money. He's taking the master ledge of every politician, judge, and police chief your family has bribed for thirty years. He's going to sell it to the Russian Syndicate. By tomorrow morning, the Moretti empire will cease to exist."
I looked into her eyes. I saw the calculated malice, the bitter triumph, and the absolute absence of remorse.
Slowly, I lowered the gun.
Vanessa’s smile flickered slightly. "Wisdom at last?"
"You think you're smart, Vanessa," I said quietly, stepping back toward the door. "You think you've played chess with monsters and won. But you forgot one simple rule of this house."
"And what rule is that?" she sneered.
"We don't leave traitors alive to enjoy their winnings."
I opened the bedroom door and raised my hand. Marco stepped into the hallway, holding a pair of heavy steel handcuffs.
"Lock her in the wine cellar," I ordered coldly. "Strip her of her phone, her jewelry, and her shoes. If she tries to speak, gag her."
"Adrian! You bastard!" Vanessa shrieked, dropping her glass as Marco grabbed her wrists, pinning her against the wall. "You can't do this to me! I am a Moretti!"
"You were a guest," I corrected her, turning my back on her screams. "And your stay has just ended."
I walked swiftly down the hallway toward the stairs, drawing my phone from my coat.
"Marcus," I said as soon as he answered. "Get Clara and Lily into the safe house on Michigan Avenue. I want six guards on them around the clock."
"Where are you going, Adrian?" Marcus asked over the line.
May you like
I reached the bottom of the grand staircase, looking out at the heavy wooden doors of my mansion as rain pounded against the glass.
"To Gary, Indiana," I said, racking the slide of my pistol. "To kill my brother."
