Chapter 8 - The Price of TreacheryWithin twenty minutes, the basement had been cleared.
Elena and Beatrice were wrapped in heavy thermal blankets and safely escorted into the back of my armored Mercedes, surrounded by personal medics who immediately started an IV line for my sister.
Lorenzo was dragged out into the freezing Chicago night, bound tightly with industrial zip-ties, gagged to keep his pathetic screams from echoing through the alleyways.
I stood in the center of the derelict basement, looking around at the damp walls and the single hanging bulb. This was where my sister had lived like an animal while I lived like a king in a golden cage, blinded by grief and betrayed by the man I trusted most.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was a encrypted text from my chief financial officer back at the estate.
Boss, we audited Lorenzo’s private accounts as you instructed over the comms. He’s been funneling syndicate funds to the Rossi remnants in New York for the past three years. He was planning a full corporate coup for next month’s summit.
A dark, cold smile crossed my lips.
So the war wasn't over. It was only just beginning.
I stepped out of the basement into the freezing Chicago air. The wind howled off the lake, whipping snow across the dark streets, but I didn't feel the cold anymore. The numbness that had frozen my heart for twelve years was gone, replaced by a searing, absolute clarity.
Marcus stood by the open door of the Mercedes, holding a tablet out for me.
“Where to, Mr. Vale? The medical facility downtown, or Vale Manor?”
I climbed into the back seat, sitting beside Elena, who had fallen into a peaceful, exhausted sleep with her head resting gently on Beatrice’s shoulder.
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I pulled my coat tighter around my sister, looking out the tinted window as the car began to roll forward, leaving the dark alley behind.
“We go home, Marcus,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet hum of the engine. “And then, we send a message to New York. Tell them the Vale family is back from the dead.”
