Chapter 4 - THE PROMISSORY NOTE
The tiny square of microfiche film caught the ambient light of the chandeliers, gleaming like a dark gemstone in the center of the table.
“What is that?” Gideon asked, stepping forward, his broad shoulders tense.
“It’s the real reason Vincent Bellini was murdered,” Julian said. He handed the film to Adrian. “Vincent wasn't just stealing cash. He was keeping records. The Laurent family wasn't just operating a shipping company. They were running an extortion racket, bleeding both of your fathers dry.”
Adrian held the tiny film up to the light of the nearest candle. The heat of the flame illuminated the microscopic text. His eyes narrowed as he read the numbers.
“This is a promissory note,” Adrian whispered, the realization draining the color from his face. “Signed by my father. And your father, Gideon.”
“They were in debt to the Laurents for forty million dollars,” Samuel Voss said quietly from the end of the table. The old lawyer looked exhausted, the weight of his long-held secrets finally breaking him. “The fathers made a disastrous investment in an offshore casino that went under. The Laurents bought the debt. They threatened to expose the failure to the Commission, which would have meant the end of both your families.”
I felt physically sick. My husband, the proud, unyielding lion of the Bellini family, had spent the last years of his life crushed under the weight of a debt he couldn't share with me.
“Vincent found out,” Samuel continued. “He stole the microfiche ledger to use as leverage against the Laurents. He thought he could blackmail them into forgiving the debt. Instead, they burned him alive to destroy the evidence.”
Adrian slowly lowered the film. He turned his head to look at Vanessa.
The polished, arrogant facade of the mafia boss’s fiancée had cracked, but it hadn't shattered. Instead, a cold, venomous smile spread across her red lips.
“Well,” Vanessa said, her voice dripping with condescension. “It seems the help finally figured it out. Took you long enough.”
The forty wealthy guests in the room began to murmur in panic. A few tried to stand up, but Julian and Adrian’s loyal guards immediately moved to block the doors.
“You knew?” Adrian asked, his voice hollow. “You knew your father burned my uncle, and you slept in my bed?”
“My father did what he had to do to protect our investment,” Vanessa said smoothly, walking around the table toward Adrian. She didn't look afraid. She looked triumphant. “Your fathers were weak, Adrian. They were gamblers who lost their nerve. We simply collected what was owed.”
“By committing murder?” Gideon roared, his restraint snapping. He lunged across the space, but I grabbed his arm, digging my nails into his sleeve to hold him back.
“By asserting dominance,” Vanessa corrected coldly. She reached down and effortlessly yanked the steak knife out of the mahogany table, tossing it aside. She picked up the leather folder containing the peace agreement.
“This isn't a peace treaty,” Vanessa announced to the stunned room. She opened the folder and flipped to the final page. “This is a foreclosure. The forty million dollar debt accrued eighteen years of interest. The Bellini and Moretti estates are bankrupt. If you don't sign this transfer of assets to Laurent Shipping tonight, my lawyers will hand the original debt documents to the FBI tomorrow morning. Both of your families will be indicted for federal racketeering and tax evasion.”
The room fell into a terrified silence. The peace dinner was a trap. We hadn't been invited to reconcile; we had been invited to surrender.
“You’re extorting us,” Adrian breathed.
“I’m collecting, darling,” Vanessa smiled, tapping the contract with a manicured fingernail. “Sign it, Adrian. Sign away the eastern port, and you and Gideon stay out of federal prison. Refuse, and you lose everything anyway.”
Adrian looked at Gideon. The two men, raised to hate each other for a fire neither of their families started, suddenly shared a silent, profound understanding. They were brothers in betrayal.
“I’m not signing anything,” Adrian said, his voice as cold as ice.
Vanessa sighed dramatically. “I thought you might be stubborn. Which is why I took out an insurance policy.”
She pulled a sleek smartphone from her clutch purse and tapped the screen. She turned it around for Gideon to see.
It was a live video feed.
It showed a dark, confined space. In the center of the frame, tied to a wooden chair with a blindfold over her eyes, was a ten-year-old girl in a pink dress.
Gideon let out a sound I had never heard a human being make—a raw, agonizing roar of pure terror.
It was Lily. My granddaughter. Gideon’s only child.
“Where is she?!” Gideon screamed, lunging for Vanessa’s throat.
May you like
Vanessa’s guards immediately drew their weapons, aiming them at Gideon’s chest.
“Take one more step, Bellini,” Vanessa hissed, “and my men at the harbor will burn the warehouse she’s sitting in right to the ground. Just like we did to your uncle.”
