Chapter 18 - THE NEW DYNASTYThat evening, after Elena had fallen asleep clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit in her own safe, sunlit bedroom, I stepped out onto the stone terrace with a glass of crisp white wine.
The wind whispered softly through the pine trees surrounding the property. Down below, the lights of the quiet Swiss village twinkled like fallen stars against the dark expanse of the lake.
My phone chimed softly on the stone table beside me.
A single notification from Marcus: St. Jude’s Prison Hospital security dispatch. Time of death: 18:42 local time. Case closed.
I looked down at the screen, watching the notification light blink twice before fading into darkness.
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There was no grief. No triumph, either. Just a quiet, profound sense of closure—like the final page of a heavy, terrifying book closing forever.
Adrian Moretti was gone. His empire of ash had finally blown away in the wind, leaving nothing behind except a cautionary tale whispered in the dark corners of Chicago.
