Chapter 5 - The Trap is Set
By dawn, Gabriel’s demeanor had shifted from raw grief to calculating, razor-sharp strategy. He knew that if he confronted Gianni openly without undeniable proof, a civil war would erupt within the Moretti syndicate, risking the lives of the twins and Emma.
“We need concrete evidence,” Gabriel told his most trusted capo, Vince, in the dimly lit basement armory beneath the mansion. “Bank records, communication logs, or a confession from Marcus. Gianni is too smart to leave paper trails, but Marcus is weak. He’ll crack under pressure.”
“And Miss Brooks, boss?” Vince asked, loading the magazine of a silenced pistol. “Gianni knows she heard something. He’s already asking questions among the security detail.”
“Double the guard on the master wing,” Gabriel ordered coldly. “No one enters that floor without my direct authorization. If anyone so much as looks at Emma or the twins sideways, put a bullet in them.”
Upstairs, Emma was unaware of the violent chess match playing out beneath her feet. She was sitting in the rocking chair, nursing little Lucia while Anthony slept peacefully in his crib, when a soft knock sounded at the door.
Emma froze. Gabriel had explicitly instructed her not to open the door for anyone except him or Nurse Margaret.
“Miss Brooks?” a smooth, cultured voice called out from the hallway. It was Mrs. Vance. “I have fresh linens and organic formula for the nursery.”
Emma approached the door cautiously, peering through the small brass peephole. Mrs. Vance stood alone in the hallway, holding a stack of fluffy white towels. But something looked wrong. Mrs. Vance’s hands were shaking slightly, and her eyes kept darting nervously toward the end of the hall where the security cameras were mounted.
“Leave them by the door, Mrs. Vance, please,” Emma called out through the wood.
“Mr. Moretti requested I place them inside the armoire, Miss Brooks. Please, it’ll only take a second,” Mrs. Vance urged, her voice strained.
Emma’s intuition screamed. Gabriel never gave orders through Mrs. Vance; he always spoke to her directly.
Suddenly, Emma noticed a tiny red light flashing on the hallway’s security camera housing—someone had remotely disabled or looped the feed.
A trap.
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Before Emma could step back, the lock on the heavy door clicked. Marcus Vance stepped out from the blind spot beside the door frame, wearing latex gloves and holding a syringe filled with a clear, lethal substance. Mrs. Vance stepped aside, her face pale with guilt and fear.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Marcus sneered, lunging into the room with terrifying speed. “Nothing personal. But the Moretti empire belongs to Gianni, and you know too damn much.”
