Chapter 14 - The Trap at the GalaTwo weeks after the asset seizure, an anonymous, embossed invitation arrived at our penthouse. There was no return address, only a gold-embossed crest matching the ouroboros tattoo: an invitation to a private charity gala hosted by the city's cultural heritage foundation at the municipal opera house.
"It's a trap," Eleanor stated flatly, examining the card under a UV light in the security lab. "They want us out in public, away from the fortress of Moretti Tower."
"Of course it's a trap," Lorenzo replied calmly, adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror. He turned to look at me, where I was fastening a stunning emerald pendant around my neck. "The question is: do we walk into it, or do they?"
"We walk right into it," I said, my voice steady. "They want to draw us out because they’re desperate. If we hide, they win the psychological war. Let's give them their audience."
That evening, the grand marble steps of the opera house flashed under the blinding lights of dozens of press cameras. When Lorenzo and I stepped out of the black armored Maybach, the flashbulbs illuminated the night like lightning.
We walked arm-in-arm past the velvet ropes, looking every bit the untouchable billionaire power couple. Every elite guest inside whispered as we entered the grand foyer, sensing the electric, dangerous tension vibrating beneath the surface of the glittering chandeliers.
Then, the orchestra music suddenly cut out with a sharp screech of feedback.
The grand double doors at the top of the marble staircase slammed shut, locking automatically. Armed men in black tactical gear, wearing masks bearing the ouroboros symbol, dropped from the overhead rafters, weapons drawn and aimed directly at the crowd of three hundred socialites.
Screams echoed through the vaulted ceiling as panic erupted instantly.
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"Nobody move!" a harsh voice barked from the top of the stairs. A tall man in an expensive tuxedo stepped forward, lowering his mask. It was Victor Vance—Richard’s ruthless older brother, and the hidden European boss of the Consortium.
"Welcome, Lorenzo," Victor sneered, his eyes filled with psychotic glee. "And welcome to your brilliant little wife. You thought you could dismantle our empire from a boardroom? Tonight, Moretti Holdings dies here."
