Chapter 3 - THE BLOODLINE
The interior of the SUV went dead silent, save for the muffled roar of the engine and the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers against the rain.
I stared at Matteo, my mind completely short-circuiting.
"My... my father?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. "My father was a middle-school science teacher who died of a heart attack when I was eight years old!"
"The man who raised you was a schoolteacher, yes," Matteo corrected smoothly, pulling a leather-bound folder from the side pocket of the door and tossing it into my lap. "He was paid fifty thousand dollars a year by Arthur Vance to raise you under a false identity in suburban Massachusetts."
My hands trembled as I opened the folder.
Inside were high-resolution photographs of an old man with sharp, aristocratic features sitting in a wheelchair overlooking a Swiss lake. Beneath the photos were official court documents, birth certificates, and a certified DNA analysis bearing my name alongside Arthur Vance's.
Arthur Vance. The legendary reclusive billionaire who controlled the logistics networks, deep-water ports, and shipping hubs across the Eastern Seaboard. A man whose name was whispered in boardroom meetings and mob sit-downs alike.
"This is a mistake," I said, shaking my head frantically as tears burned my eyes. "This has to be a mistake! I don't know this man! I’ve worked three jobs since I was nineteen just to pay off my student loans!"
"Arthur Vance had no other living heirs," Matteo explained, his tone even and unsympathetic. "His two sons were killed in a turf war ten years ago. When he realized his health was failing, he updated his trust. The moment his heart stopped today at 6:00 PM Swiss time, his voting shares automatically transferred to you."
"And the Falcones?" I asked, horror settling into my bones.
"Don Marco Falcone spent five years trying to force Arthur Vance to sell those docks," Matteo said, leaning closer, his dark shadow enveloping me. "If you die before the probate court verifies your identity at noon tomorrow, Arthur’s estate defaults to his corporate board—a board that Falcone purchased three months ago."
I swallowed hard, my breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. "So... if I die..."
"Falcone gets the docks," Matteo finished. "And with those docks, he controls every illegal shipment coming into New England. Which means my organization loses the war."
I looked at him, the terrifying reality finally dawning on me.
"You didn't save me tonight because you're a good person," I said, my voice hardening despite my fear. "You saved me because you need my vote."
May you like
Matteo’s lips pulled into a slow, ruthless curve—a predator admiring a prey that suddenly showed teeth.
"I saved you because you are worth forty percent of the city, Sophie," Matteo whispered smoothly. "And because nobody shoots a woman who had the courage to poke me in the chest twice in front of my own men."
