Chapter 6 - THE BLACK SUV
“You’re bluffing,” Adrian growled, stopping inches from Cassandra. The absolute fury radiating from him made the air in the room feel heavy and thin.
Cassandra didn't flinch. She tapped the screen of her phone once and held it up.
A live video feed played on the screen. It was dark, illuminated only by the passing streetlights, but it was clear enough. A little boy with messy dark hair and terrified brown eyes—Adrian’s eyes—sat strapped in the backseat of a moving vehicle. A large man in a leather jacket sat beside him.
Adrian let out a sound I had never heard in twenty-four years—a raw, guttural noise of pure paternal terror.
“Leo,” Adrian whispered, his hand reaching out instinctively toward the glass screen.
Cassandra pulled the phone back. “Don’t test me, Adrian. One text message, and the car keeps driving all the way to a cargo ship at the docks. You’ll never see him again.”
I felt sick to my stomach. This elegant woman in a shimmering red gown was a monster.
“You set this up,” Daniel realized, his eyes wide as he looked at his fiancée. “The hospital charity, the property buyout… it was all a front. You were trying to steal the estate out from under us.”
“Oh, Daniel, don't play the victim,” Cassandra sneered. “You were perfectly happy to help me drain the accounts as long as I promised you a seat on the board. You were so desperate for approval, you didn't even read the contracts you signed. I own Bellweather. I own the debts. And now, I own the heir.”
“Cassandra,” Adrian said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Name your price. Whatever you want. Wire transfers, offshore accounts, the deeds. Just bring him here.”
“I already told you my price,” she replied smoothly. “Everything. The house, the businesses, the shipping yards. I want the Moretti name wiped off the map.”
“Why?” June asked softly from the corner of the room. “A woman like you doesn't do this just for money. This is personal.”
Cassandra’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She glared at the housekeeper.
“You have a good eye, June,” Cassandra said bitterly. She turned her gaze to Aunt Evelyn, who was still cowering in her chair. “Ask Evelyn why I’m doing this.”
Evelyn blinked rapidly, her hands shaking on her cane. “I… I don't know you. You’re just a gold-digger my nephew brought home.”
Cassandra’s eyes flashed with venom. She reached up and unclasped the delicate diamond necklace she was wearing. She let it fall to the floor. Then, from her clutch, she pulled out a small, tarnished silver locket and held it up by its chain.
Aunt Evelyn gasped, her face draining of all color.
“Remember this, Evelyn?” Cassandra asked softly. “It belonged to the maid you fired thirty years ago. The maid who caught you skimming money from the family trusts. You framed her for theft, had her blacklisted from every job in the city, and left her to die in poverty.”
I stared at Cassandra. The reversal hit me like a physical blow.
Cassandra wasn't just a corporate shark. She was the daughter of the disgraced maid. She had spent her entire life infiltrating the Moretti family for revenge.
“My mother froze to death on the streets because of you,” Cassandra spat at Evelyn. Then she turned back to Adrian. “Your family destroys everything it touches. Tonight, I destroy your family.”
“Leave the boy out of this,” Adrian pleaded, his hands raised in surrender. “He’s innocent.”
“So was my mother!” Cassandra shouted, her composure finally cracking.
Before anyone could react, the heavy dining room doors rattled.
Someone was trying to open them from the outside.
I had locked them. I had the key in my apron pocket.
“Margaret, did you call the police?” Adrian whispered urgently.
“No,” I breathed, stepping back as the brass doorknob violently twisted.
“It’s my security team,” Cassandra said with a smug smile. “They’re here to collect the signatures.”
CRACK.
The heavy oak doors splintered inward with a deafening crash as someone kicked them open from the hallway. Wood fragments scattered across the Persian rug.
A woman stood in the doorway.
She wore a dark, tailored trench coat. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe twist. She held a suppressed pistol in her right hand, pointed directly at Cassandra’s chest.
Four armed men in tactical gear flanked her, immediately fanning out into the room.
Cassandra froze, her phone slipping from her grip.
Aunt Evelyn let out a high-pitched scream and fainted, slumping over in her chair.
Adrian stared at the woman in the doorway, his mouth slightly open, the breath knocked out of his lungs.
The woman lowered the gun slightly and looked at the seventy-eight-year-old housekeeper.
“You kept your promise, June,” the woman said. Her voice was raspy, aged by time and secrets, but unmistakable.
June smiled through her tears. “Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti.”
May you like
Sofia Moretti stepped into the dining room.
She wasn't dead.
