Chapter 5 - MIDNIGHT IN THE PENTHOUSE
Dominic Moretti’s penthouse occupied the top two floors of a sleek glass skyscraper overlooking the Boston Harbor. At 2:15 a.m., the lights inside were off, save for the blue glow of multiple computer monitors illuminating the sprawling living room.
The security door on the private elevator didn't need to be picked. Marco carried a portable override code that bypassed the biometric locks in seconds.
Click.
The elevator doors slid open silently.
Marco stepped out first, his service pistol drawn and suppressed, sweeping the hallway with professional precision. I followed right behind him, my footsteps making no sound on the imported Italian hardwood floors.
We found Dominic in his home office.
He wasn't sleeping. He sat in a leather executive chair, nursing a glass of scotch, staring intently at his dual monitors as a progress bar ticked upward on the screen.
Data Transfer: 87% Complete.
He was actively downloading the encrypted ledger of Moretti Global’s overseas shipping routes—the very crown jewels of our logistics empire.
"Working late, cousin?" I asked.
Dominic froze. The glass of scotch slipped from his fingers, shattering against the Persian rug as he spun his chair around so fast he nearly tipped it over.
"Gabriel!" he gasped, his face draining of color as he scrambled backward. "What—how did you get in here? Security—"
"Your security is currently tied up in the basement elevator shaft," Marco said smoothly, stepping into the office and pointing his suppressed weapon at the center of Dominic's chest. "They won't be answering the intercom anytime soon."
Dominic swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically toward the desk drawer where he kept a licensed Beretta.
"Don't even think about it," I said, walking slowly toward his desk. I reached out, grabbed his coffee mug, and poured the remaining cold liquid directly over the computer tower housing the live transfer.
Sizzle.
Sparks flew from the back of the chassis as the motherboard short-circuited, the monitors blackening instantly.
"No! Are you insane?" Dominic shrieked, jumping up from his chair. "That was live data! That was—"
"That was corporate treason," I interrupted, my voice flat and dead.
I reached across the desk, grabbed him by the lapels of his silk bathrobe, and hauled him forward until his face was inches from mine. The sheer physical force of my grip made him choke off his words, his eyes widening in primal terror.
"You planted Chloe Vance in my house," I whispered. "You used forged credentials to slip a thief and a spy into my bed, and you thought you could use her to siphon my assets while I was busy planning a wedding."
"I—I don't know what you're talking about!" Dominic stammered, sweating profusely. "Chloe? That's insane! She's just a socialite you met in Newport! I had nothing to do with—"
I punched him.
It wasn't a wild, angry swing. It was a calculated, precise blow to the solar plexus that knocked every ounce of air out of his lungs.
Dominic collapsed backward over his desk, gasping like a fish out of water, clutching his stomach as he slid down onto the floor, wheezing and coughing.
"You always were a clumsy amateur, Dominic," I said, looking down at him with utter contempt. "You wanted my empire? You wanted the crown? You couldn't even manage a hostile takeover without hiding behind a girl who burned a maid with hot tea because she didn't know how to act like an aristocrat."
Dominic wheezed, wiping a streak of blood from his lip. "You... you can't touch me. The board... the board will vote you out if I disappear. I have allies on the compliance committee—"
"Your allies on the compliance committee received a package an hour ago containing your wire transfer logs, your offshore shell company registrations in the Caymans, and your direct communications with Chloe," I interrupted, pulling my platinum watch from my pocket and checking the time. "In fact, by the time the sun comes up over Boston harbor, the board will have already voted unanimously to strip you of your shares, expel you from the family trust, and hand your entire portfolio over to a blind liquidation trust."
Dominic stared up at me, the terrifying realization washing over him that he wasn't just losing his position—he was losing everything. His money, his status, his freedom, and his name.
"Please, Gabriel," Dominic choked out, his voice turning into a pathetic whine as he reached out to grab my shoe. "We're family! We share the same blood! You can't send me to prison!"
I stepped back, pulling my foot away from his filthy fingers.
"My father taught me that fear was efficient," I said softly, looking down at my cousin with absolute coldness. "He taught me that mercy was expensive. But he also taught me that betrayal within the bloodline is the one sin that can never, ever be forgiven."
I turned toward the door.
"Marco. Call the federal marshals. Tell them there's a fugitive hiding out in a downtown penthouse who needs a secure escort to a maximum-security holding facility."
May you like
"Right away, sir," Marco said, holstering his weapon and pulling out his encrypted satellite phone.
I walked out of the penthouse office without looking back once, leaving my cousin weeping on the floor among the smoking remains of his treasonous ambitions.
