Chapter 14 - The South American Loose EndsThousands of miles away, in a sweltering, nondescript safehouse near the border of Argentina, Bernadette paces frantically across a cracked concrete floor. Her designer clothes are ruined, her hair is tangled, and the cold reality of her exile has set in.
Her brother, Julian, sits slumped in a rusted metal chair, staring blankly at a dead satellite phone. “They froze every single backup account in the Caymans, Bernadette. We have nothing. Not a dime.”
“There has to be something!” Bernadette screams, her voice cracking with hysteria. “Uncle Viktor promised us financial immunity! He said Luciano wouldn't dare touch our offshore holdings!”
“Uncle Viktor is dead,” a cold, synthesized voice echoes from the doorway.
Bernadette freezes, spinning around. Standing in the doorway are two tall men wearing dark trench coats, their faces obscured by the shadows of the dim room. One of them steps forward, tossing a heavy leather pouch onto the table in front of her.
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It opens to reveal a collection of vintage wooden toy train wheels—the exact ones from Theo’s playroom.
“Luciano sends his regards,” the man says smoothly. “He wanted you to know that the Venturi name is clean. And ghosts don't return from the dead.”
