Chapter 12 - The Ghost of the Vances
Elena Vance looked nothing like her late brother. Where Victor had been loud, arrogant, and blinded by greed, Elena was sleek, silent, and terrifyingly calm. She sat in the center of the plush leather sofa in the private penthouse reception, wearing a tailored black mourning suit and holding a weathered leather journal.
When Raphael and Josephine stepped out of the private elevator, Elena didn’t stand. She simply looked up, her eyes flashing with a cold, analytical brilliance.
“You destroyed my brother’s empire, Raphael,” Elena said, her voice carrying a chilling musical cadence. “And you, Ms. Hartley... you played the role of the humble servant so well that even our best internal spies thought you were just scrubbing floors.”
“If you came here to negotiate a truce, you’re standing in the wrong room,” Raphael said, his hand resting casually near his holster.
Elena opened the leather journal, sliding it across the glass table. “I didn't come to negotiate. I came to liquidate. Victor was a fool who thought the Orsini family could be beaten with brute force. But my father left me something far more valuable than shipping docks and cartel cash. He left me the true ownership records of the Orsini estate.”
May you like
Josephine stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down at the yellowed paper in the journal. “Those are municipal land deeds from thirty years ago.”
“Exactly,” Elena smiled, a razor-sharp expression. “Your precious Orsini estate isn't legally yours, Raphael. The land was leased under a fraudulent clause by your grandfather. As the sole surviving heir of the Vance trust, I hold the master lien on your family home. You have forty-eight hours to hand over half of your global shipping assets, or I demolish your fortress brick by brick.”
