Chapter 3 - THE TRAITOR IN MY CHAIR
The heavy silver revolver felt like a block of ice in my trembling hand.
I kept the barrel aimed directly at the center of my brother’s chest.
Roberto sat slumped in my leather chair, his breathing shallow and ragged. The harsh light of the desk lamp illuminated the deep lines of exhaustion on his face, but my eyes were locked on the items resting on the mahogany wood between us.
Elena’s winter coat. Torn. Stained with fresh, dark blood.
And the silver pocket watch I had gifted to Daniel Herrera a decade ago.
"Where is she, Roberto?" I demanded, my voice echoing off the walls of the grand study. "Where is my daughter?"
Roberto let out a bitter, wet cough. He didn't raise his hands. He just stared at the barrel of my gun with empty, defeated eyes.
"I don't have her, Ernesto," he rasped. "I've been scouring the city for three days trying to find her."
"Liar!" I roared, slamming my cane against the leg of a heavy bookshelf. The sound cracked like a whip in the silent room. "Her daughter told me everything. Sofia saw you. She said the man with the scar on his neck came for them!"
Roberto closed his eyes. A single tear escaped, cutting a path through the grime on his cheek.
"Sofia," he whispered, a broken smile touching his lips. "She's so beautiful, isn't she? Looks just like Elena did when she was ten."
"Don't you dare speak her name!" I took a step forward, the gun unwavering. "You told me she was dead eleven years ago. You destroyed the accident report. You locked her away at the Blackwood Estate. Why, Roberto? Was my money not enough for you? Did you have to steal my only child, too?"
Roberto slowly opened his eyes. The sorrow I saw in them made me hesitate for a fraction of a second.
"I didn't lock her away, Ernesto," he said, his voice dropping to a painful whisper. "I hid her. I hid her from you."
The words struck me like a physical blow. The air in the room suddenly felt too thick to breathe.
"From me?" I scoffed, though my heart was pounding furiously. "I would have given my life for her."
"Would you?" Roberto reached into the inner pocket of his ruined suit jacket.
My finger tightened on the trigger. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"
"It's just a book, brother," he said softly.
He pulled out a small, black leather ledger. The binding was worn, the pages yellowed with age. He tossed it onto the desk, right next to the bloody coat.
"Open it," Roberto instructed. "Page forty-two."
I kept the gun aimed at him with my right hand while I awkwardly reached out with my left. I flipped the ledger open, struggling to keep my focus on my brother while I glanced down at the paper.
Page forty-two.
It was a financial manifest from eleven years ago. A record of off-the-books payments made by Montenegro Industries.
My eyes scanned the lines. Most of it was standard corporate bribery—payments to politicians, union leaders, local police. Things I had turned a blind eye to for decades.
But at the bottom of the page, there was a single entry that made the blood freeze in my veins.
Target Elimination: Elena Montenegro.Amount: €2,000,000.Authorized by:
Below the authorization line was a signature.
My signature.
And next to it, pressed into the paper, was the deep red wax seal of the Montenegro family crest. A seal that was kept locked in a biometric safe that only I had access to.
"No," I gasped, stepping back as if the ledger had burned my fingers. "No, this is a forgery. This is a lie!"
"Is it?" Roberto asked, leaning forward painfully. "The signature is flawless. The wax seal is genuine. Eleven years ago, Daniel intercepted the hit squad on the highway. He saved her. When he brought the evidence to me, what was I supposed to think, Ernesto? The order came from your private account. It bore your personal seal."
My mind spun into a dizzying abyss of confusion and horror.
Someone had used my own authority, my own wealth, to put a hit on my daughter.
"I didn't do this," I whispered, the gun wavering. "Roberto, I swear on my life, I didn't do this."
"I know that now," Roberto said, clutching his side. "Elena figured it out three days ago. She finally realized who actually had access to your safe eleven years ago. Who had the motive to remove her as the heir."
He looked up at me, his eyes burning with a sudden, fierce intensity.
"Your ex-wife, Ernesto. Victoria."
The name hit the room like a bomb.
Victoria. My ruthless former business partner. The woman who had sworn to destroy me when I divorced her twelve years ago. She had retained half of the company's board seats, but she had never gotten the controlling shares. Elena was the sole heir to those.
"Victoria," I breathed, the horrific reality clicking into place. "She forged my signature. She stole the seal."
"Yes," Roberto gasped, his face growing even paler. "Elena was going to the authorities three days ago to expose her. But Victoria's men found the Blackwood Estate first. They raided the house."
"Sofia said you took her," I argued, my mind struggling to reconcile the child's story.
"I didn't take her!" Roberto cried out, his voice cracking. "I arrived just as Victoria's men were dragging her away! I tried to stop them, Ernesto. I tried."
Roberto slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket.
My breath hitched in my throat.
His white dress shirt was soaked in dark, thick crimson. A massive gunshot wound marred his left side. He was bleeding to death right in front of me.
"Oh, God, Roberto," I dropped the revolver and rushed to his side, pressing my hands against the horrific wound. "We need an ambulance. Hold on, little brother, hold on!"
"There's no time," Roberto choked out, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. His hands were freezing. "Listen to me, Ernesto. Victoria... she knows about the kids. She knows you have them."
"They are safe here," I pleaded, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "We have guards. You're going to be okay."
Roberto shook his head violently, coughing up a spray of blood onto his chin.
"The guards work for her now, Ernesto," he whispered, his eyes widening in terror. "She bought them out."
As if on cue, all the lights in the mansion suddenly went dead.
Plunged into absolute darkness, the silence of the massive house became deafening.
Then, from the hallway outside the study, I heard the unmistakable, metallic clack of assault rifles being cocked.
"She's here," Roberto gasped, his grip on my wrist tightening painfully.
But then, Roberto did something that made my heart completely stop.
He reached into his pocket with his bloody hand, pulled out a small set of car keys, and shoved them into my palm.
"Daniel didn't take her three days ago either, brother," Roberto whispered, his voice fading rapidly. "He fought them. He fought them for her."
"Where is Daniel?" I begged, the sounds of heavy boots approaching the study doors growing louder.
Roberto gave a weak, bloody smile.
May you like
"He's not hiding from me, Ernesto," he breathed. "He's bleeding out in the trunk of my car right now. Save him... so he can save her."
Before I could process his words, the heavy oak doors of my study violently shattered inward.
