Chapter 4 - The Poisoned AllianceDown in the subterranean firing range beneath the west wing, Salvatore Rizzi was methodically emptying the magazine of a Sig Sauer P226 into the chest of a paper target.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The casings bounced off the concrete floor in a rhythmic, metallic clatter.
The heavy steel door of the range opened, and a figure slipped inside. Salvatore didn't stop shooting until the slide locked back on the empty chamber. He lowered the pistol, ejected the magazine, and turned around with a slow, knowing smile.
“You look troubled, Sal,” a smooth, cultured voice said from the shadows near the entrance.
Stepping out from the dim light was Marcus Vance—not Elena’s dead father, but her estranged, ruthless uncle who had spent the last decade building a rival corporate syndicate in Chicago, quietly warring against the Moretti family’s shipping monopolies.
“Marcus,” Salvatore said coolly, setting the pistol down on the shooting bench. “You’re taking a massive risk walking into my domain without an appointment. If Adrian knew you were in this building, he’d feed you to the harbor fish before dinner.”
“Adrian is currently distracted,” Marcus smiled, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive Italian suit. “He’s discovering the little secret we planted inside his estate. Elena and her child are finally playing their part.”
Salvatore narrowed his eyes. “You used your own niece as a Trojan horse? Sending her into Adrian’s house just to dig up old ledgers?”
“Elena thinks she’s hiding,” Marcus chuckled darkly. “She thinks she escaped our family by changing her last name and taking a job as a maid. But she didn't know that the ledger her father hid before he was executed was in her mother’s old sewing box—the very box she packed when she moved into the servants’ quarters here.”
Salvatore crossed his arms, his mind racing through the tactical implications. “And if Adrian finds the ledger?”
“He’ll realize his own father framed Thomas Vance to cover up his embezzlement,” Marcus said, his smile turning razor-sharp. “Adrian’s entire empire is built on the myth of his father’s honor. Once he learns the truth, he and Salvatore—or rather, you and I—can pick apart what’s left of the Moretti syndicate while Adrian destroys himself from the inside out.”
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Salvatore stared at Marcus for a long, silent moment. Then, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
“A partnership,” Salvatore murmured. “I like the sound of that.”
