Chapter 7 - THE GAVEL FALLS
The heavy oak doors of the Bellandi boardroom were locked from the inside.
I didn't knock. I kicked the brass handle with the heel of my muddy shoe. The wood splintered, and the door swung open, slamming violently against the wall.
The entire council—twelve of the most dangerous men in the city—turned to stare at me.
Vincent was seated at the far end, looking bruised but defiant.
Irene stood at the head of the table, gavel in hand, her face a mask of absolute fury.
And in the corner, tied to a chair with a split lip, was Walter.
"What is the meaning of this?" Irene demanded, her voice cracking like a whip. "Guards! Remove this servant!"
"The guards are busy putting out a fire," I said, stepping into the room. I kept Leo firmly behind my leg, shielding him.
I walked straight to the long mahogany table and tossed the torn halves of Sterling's contract onto the polished wood.
"The buyer withdrew," I announced clearly, making sure every man in the room heard me. "He discovered the land is toxic. Undevelopable. The eight-million-dollar deal is dead."
Murmurs erupted around the table. The council members leaned in, inspecting the torn documents.
Irene’s face went pale. "That’s a lie. The land is pristine."
"The land is a graveyard," Vincent said, standing up slowly.
He looked around the table at the men he had led for three decades.
"My niece brought you a deal built on a lie," Vincent declared, his voice rumbling with authority. "She framed an innocent man, evicted his family, and tried to strip my power, all to bulldoze a property to hide a crime."
"He’s raving," Irene snapped, slamming the gavel down. "He set fire to his own house! He’s senile. We vote on the succession now!"
"We don't vote on anything," a heavy-set man named Russo said, crossing his arms. He looked at the torn contract. "No money, no deal. And if the cops start digging around a toxic dump, we all go down. Vincent is right. The girl is reckless."
Irene realized the room was slipping away. She turned to Walter, her eyes flashing with desperation.
"You," she hissed, pointing a manicured finger at him. "You stole from this family."
Walter looked up, blood on his chin. He didn't look afraid. He looked pitying.
"I built a wall to hide your secrets, Irene," Walter said quietly. "And you repaid me by making my grandson homeless. You have no honor. And a family without honor is just a gang of thieves."
Irene lunged forward, grabbing a heavy brass paperweight from the table. She raised it, aiming for Walter’s head.
Before I could move, Vincent was there.
He caught her wrist in mid-air. His grip was like a vice.
"Enough," Vincent said, his voice deadly quiet. "You have disgraced your father. You have disgraced me. You are finished."
He wrenched the paperweight from her hand and threw it to the floor.
Irene stumbled back, breathing heavily. She looked around the room, waiting for someone, anyone, to stand up for her.
No one moved. The wolves had smelled weakness, and they had turned their backs.
"Take her," Vincent ordered the two loyal guards who had finally appeared in the doorway. "Put her in a car. Drive her to the airport. If she ever sets foot in this city again, I will let the police dig up the basement."
Irene straightened her ruined designer jacket. She refused to cry. She looked at Vincent with pure venom.
"You’re a dinosaur, Vincent," she spat. "You’ll die in this rotting house, surrounded by servants because you have no real family left."
"I have my honor," Vincent said. "Get out."
When she was gone, the tension in the room broke like a snapped wire.
I rushed over to Walter and untied the thick ropes binding his wrists. He winced, rubbing his raw skin, but then he looked past me.
"Leo?" Walter breathed.
Leo ran out from behind my leg and threw his arms around his grandfather’s neck, burying his face in Walter’s shoulder.
Walter held the boy tightly, tears finally spilling down his weathered cheeks.
Vincent watched them. The hard lines of his face softened, and for the first time in a very long time, he looked at peace.
He turned to the council.
"The meeting is adjourned," Vincent said. "Go home."
They filed out silently. They knew the hierarchy had been restored, and Vincent’s grip was stronger than ever.
When the room was empty, Vincent walked over to Walter.
"I cannot undo what she did," Vincent said softly. "But I can try to make it right."
Walter looked up, his arm wrapped protectively around Leo. "I just want my life back, Vincent."
"You will have more than that," Vincent promised.
He walked over to his ruined desk, pulled open a secret drawer that had survived the smoke damage, and took out a heavy piece of parchment.
He brought it over and set it in front of Walter.
May you like
It was the original deed to cottage number four.
Vincent picked up a pen, crossed out the Bellandi name, and signed it over to Walter Shaw.
