Chapter 5 - THE BASEMENT OF TRUTHThe basement of the Rossi estate was not a wine cellar. It was a concrete bunker built thirty feet below the cliffs, soundproofed and equipped with drain floors.
Carmela Rossi, dressed in a ten-thousand-dollar mink coat, sat tied to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room. Across from her, bloody and bruised, was Tommy Vance—Hunter’s ex-boyfriend. He was hyperventilating, his eyes wide with absolute terror.
Hunter walked down the concrete steps, holding Leo wrapped in a warm blanket. Lorenzo walked beside her, carrying a leather briefcase.
When Tommy saw Hunter, his eyes widened. "Hunter? Hunter, baby! Oh God, tell these guys to let me go! I didn't mean to push you, Hunter! It was an accident! I swear to God, I didn't know you were pregnant!"
Hunter stopped five feet from him. She looked at the man who had ruined her life. She felt no anger. She felt no sadness. She felt only a cold, profound disgust.
"You knew I was pregnant, Tommy," Hunter said quietly. "You just didn't care because you wanted eighty dollars for a bag of coke."
"Hunter, please!" Tommy wept, blood mixing with tears on his broken nose. "These guys are monsters! They're gonna kill me!"
"Silence," Lorenzo said calmly.
He opened the briefcase on a stainless-steel table. Inside were financial ledgers, encrypted phone logs, and bank statements from a offshore account in the Cayman Islands.
Lorenzo turned to his sister-in-law, Carmela. "You always were greedy, Carmela. When my brother died three years ago, you thought you were entitled to half the syndicate. But my father left everything to me."
"You're a tyrant, Lorenzo!" Carmela spat, her dark eyes flashing with hatred. "You ruined this family! Sophia was a weak fool who didn't belong in our world!"
"Sophia was ten times the woman you will ever be," Lorenzo said quietly. "And you paid the Morettis to put a bomb under her car."
"Prove it!" Carmela sneered. "You have nothing!"
Lorenzo picked up a printout from the briefcase. "I didn't have proof until ten minutes ago. The assassin who fell off my balcony? We recovered his cell phone from his tactical vest before he drowned. His last dialed number wasn't to a Moretti boss. It was to your personal secretary."
Carmela’s face drained of all color.
Lorenzo turned his gaze to Tommy Vance. "And you, Tommy. You were the low-level rat who delivered the military-grade C4 from the Moretti armory to Carmela’s driver. You thought you were just selling stolen goods to pay off your gambling debt. You didn't realize you were aiding in the murder of my wife and child."
Tommy began to scream, thrashing against his restraints. "I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know what was in the box! Carmela’s driver paid me five grand to drop it in a dumpster in Manhattan! Hunter, tell him! I'm stupid, but I'm not a murderer!"
Hunter stepped forward. She looked down at Tommy, then looked at Lorenzo.
"Lorenzo," Hunter said softly.
Lorenzo looked at her. "Yes, Hunter?"
"He took my daughter's life," Hunter said, her voice shaking with absolute conviction. "He took away her first breath, her first smile, her entire future. I don't want you to kill him."
Tommy let out a sob of relief. "Thank you, Hunter! Thank you, baby—"
"I want him to spend the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison," Hunter continued, ignoring Tommy’s cries. "Where he will wake up every day knowing he is never coming out. Death is too easy for him."
Lorenzo stared at her for a long moment. A profound respect shone in his eyes. He nodded once. "Marco. Deliver Mr. Vance to the FBI field office with a complete dossier of his arms-dealing activities. Ensure he gets fifty years without parole."
"No! No! Kill me instead! Please!" Tommy screamed as Marco dragged his chair toward the elevator.
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Lorenzo then walked up to Carmela. His face was entirely devoid of emotion.
"As for you, sister-in-law," Lorenzo whispered, bending down so his lips were an inch from her ear. "Family doesn't go to prison. Family gets dealt with internally."
