Chapter 5 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The heavy oak doors of the breakfast terrace swing open. Two guards drag a disheveled Julian Vance into the room, throwing him hard onto the marble floor. His expensive Italian suit is rumpled, his hair disheveled, and his hands are zip-tied behind his back.
Julian groans, spitting blood onto the pristine white marble. He looks up, locking eyes with his terrified sister.
“Bernadette... they hit the warehouse in Milan an hour ago,” Julian gasps, his voice cracking with panic. “Everything is gone. The cash, the gold, the paper trails... all seized.”
Bernadette stumbles back against the French doors, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The walls are closing in. Every escape route she and her brother spent three years meticulously building has been dismantled in less than twelve hours.
“You’re monsters,” she spits, tears of pure rage finally spilling over her cheeks. “Both of you! You use people, you discard them, you treat your own flesh and blood like disposable trash!”
“We learned from the best, Bernadette,” Luciano says, standing upright and buttoning his suit jacket. He turns to Marco. “Escort Mrs. Vance and her brother to the estate airstrip. Put them on the private charter to South America. Make sure their accounts in Zurich are completely drained down to the last cent first. Let them start over with the clothes on their back.”
“No! You can’t take Felix! He’s a Venturi heir!” Bernadette screams, lunging forward, but the guards step in, blocking her path effortlessly.
“Felix stays here,” Luciano’s voice drops like a lead weight. “Where he can be deprogrammed from the poison you’ve been pouring into his mind. He’s going to therapy, starting today. He will learn what it means to be a man of honor, not a thief and a coward.”
Felix clings to his mother’s skirt, sobbing uncontrollably, but Bernadette is forcefully hauled away by the guards, her muffled screams echoing down the corridor as she is dragged from the only life she has ever known.
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Julian is hauled up by his collar and dragged out right behind her, leaving the terrace dead silent once more.
Luciano exhales slowly, running a tired hand over his face. The storm has passed, but the wreckage is immense.
