Chapter 8 - The Siege of DeLuca Estate
The heavy oak front doors of the DeLuca mansion splintered inward under the force of a battering ram.
“FBI! Federal agents! Down on the ground! Nobody move!”
Tactical officers in heavy black body armor, helmets, and night-vision goggles flooded the grand foyer, their assault rifles raised, sweeping the marble hallways with laser sights.
At the front of the stack strode Assistant U.S. Attorney Arthur Vance. He wore an expensive trench coat, his face twisted into an ugly mask of corporate vengeance and grief for his dead brother.
"Secure the perimeter!" Arthur yelled over the chaos, waving his badge at the emerging estate guards who stood down under Carmine’s standing orders. "Search every room! I want Carmine DeLuca and that little whore of his in cuffs in the next five minutes!"
"Looking for me, Arthur?"
The voice echoed from the grand mahogany staircase above.
Arthur snapped his head up.
Carmine DeLuca stood on the landing, completely relaxed, his hands resting casually in his trouser pockets, wearing a crisp black suit. Beside him stood Ivy, her posture upright, unshakeable, and radiating an aura of absolute control.
Arthur sneered, drawing his own service weapon and pointing it straight at Carmine’s chest.
"DeLuca! You're harboring fugitives, running an international criminal syndicate, and laundering blood money! Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your back, or my men will turn you into swiss cheese!"
Carmine didn't raise his hands. He didn't even blink.
"Arthur, you really should check your jurisdiction before you storm a sovereign property," Carmine said smoothly.
"Shut your mouth!" Arthur screamed, veins bulging in his neck. "You killed my brother! You think your little mafia empire can hide behind shell companies forever? I've got the federal warrant right here, signed and sealed!"
"You have a forged warrant," a cool, clear voice interrupted.
Arthur blinked, staring up at Ivy.
Ivy stepped forward, holding up a small tablet screen displaying real-time data streaming across the federal mainframe.
"You didn't just issue an unauthorized raid, Arthur," Ivy said, her voice carrying effortlessly across the grand foyer. "Using your DOJ credentials, you routed forty million dollars of seized government forfeiture funds directly into your personal offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. And right now... that exact data packet is being broadcasted live to the Department of Justice Internal Affairs division, the FBI Director’s private terminal, and every major news network in the country."
Arthur’s face turned the color of ash. The color drained completely from his cheeks, his hands beginning to shake violently.
"You—you're lying," Arthur stammered, lowering his gun slightly. "That's impossible—"
Bzzzt.
Arthur’s secure government cell phone buzzed loudly in his trench coat pocket.
With trembling fingers, he pulled it out. The screen flashed with an incoming priority call labeled: INTERNAL AFFAIRS - COMMAND.
Slowly, behind Arthur, three federal tactical agents lowered their rifles, turning their heads to stare at him with cold, suspicious eyes. The team leader stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
"Mr. Vance," the team leader said coldly, his voice devoid of all professional courtesy. "Drop your weapon. You're under arrest."
Arthur dropped the gun. It hit the marble floor with a dull, hollow clatter.
As federal cuffs snapped onto Arthur Vance’s wrists and he was dragged screaming and kicking out the shattered front doors, Carmine looked down from the stairs, watching the wreckage of the raid dissolve into federal justice.
May you like
He turned his head slowly, looking at the woman standing beside him.
The night maid who had scrubbed a clean pan in a basement sink just eight days ago.
