Chapter 4 - The Library Trap and the Hidden Camera
The Rossi mansion at three in the morning felt less like a home and more like a mausoleum. Every shadow stretched long and menacing across the polished marble floors as I half-carried, half-dragged Dominic down the grand staircase toward the ground-floor library.
My shoulder burned from supporting his heavy frame, and every step he took sent a fresh shudder through his body. I could feel the damp warmth of blood soaking through my sleeve where his bandages pressed against my arm, but he refused to slow down. His face was chalk-white, dripping with cold sweat, yet his eyes burned with an icy, predatory focus that warned anyone foolish enough to cross his path.
Leo was waiting outside the heavy oak doors of the library. He held a black leather gun case in his left hand and a rolled-up blueprint in his right.
"The perimeter is sealed," Leo whispered, his eyes widening slightly when he saw me practically holding Dominic upright. "Boss, you shouldn't be out of bed."
"Marcus thinks I'm dying in a dark room, Leo," Dominic rasped, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Let's not disappoint him just yet. Give me the gun."
Leo unlocked the leather case and handed the Browning Hi-Power to Dominic. The mafia boss checked the magazine with a practiced, fluid motion—one-handed, his right arm pinned loosely across his chest in a makeshift sling of bandages—and clicked the safety off.
"What's the plan?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "You can't fight a coup with a fever of 103 and an open shoulder wound."
"I don't need to fight a coup," Dominic said, a cold, humorless smile touching his lips. "I just need to let Marcus walk into a trap of his own making."
Leo unrolled the blueprint across a mahogany side table. "Marcus scheduled the secret council meeting for dawn in the conservatory. He brought three capos from the outer districts—men who think you're weak, boss. He plans to declare you incapacitated and take over the syndicates by noon."
"And the ledger?" Dominic asked.
"Clara hid it in the library safe," Leo replied. "Marcus doesn't know she found it. He thinks he destroyed all the digital backups, but he forgot about the physical paper trails your father kept."
"Good," Dominic muttered, pushing himself off the wall. "Nora, you're coming with me."
"Excuse me?" I hissed, staring at him as if he had lost his remaining mind. "I am a registered nurse, not a foot soldier in your little mob war! My job is to change your dressings, not dodge bullets in a conservatory!"
"Your job is whatever I pay you to do," Dominic said, stepping close enough that I could feel the intense heat radiating from his skin. "And right now, I'm paying you to make sure I don't bleed out on the carpet while I save my empire. If I pass out, you're the one who has to revive me."
"I hate you," I whispered.
"Everyone does," he replied smoothly. "Let's go."
We slipped through the dark corridors like ghosts, avoiding the main halls where Marcus's loyal guards might be patrolling. The Rossi mansion was massive, a labyrinth of velvet drapes, antique statues, and hidden passageways that only Leo and Dominic seemed to know by heart.
We reached the service corridor behind the grand conservatory just as the first pale streaks of gray dawn began to pierce the heavy glass dome overhead.
Through the thick velvet curtains, I could see shadows moving inside.
"Rossi is dead," a deep, gravelly voice echoed through the glass. It was Marcus. I recognized the smooth, arrogant tone immediately. "The nurse left his room crying an hour ago. His fever broke his brain. By tonight, the council will ratify my leadership, and the Marcone shipments will double."
Inside the conservatory, three older men in expensive suits murmured in agreement.
Dominic slowly parted the velvet curtain.
He didn't rush in with guns blazing like an action movie hero. Instead, he stepped through the opening with the quiet, terrifying grace of a panther, his left hand holding the Browning steady, his right arm strapped tightly to his side.
"You always did overestimate your medical diagnoses, Marcus," Dominic said softly.
The temperature in the conservatory seemed to drop twenty degrees instantly.
Marcus spun around, the glass of scotch in his hand slipping from his fingers and shattering against the marble floor. The three capos jumped out of their seats, their hands instinctively moving toward their suit jackets where shoulder holsters rested.
Marcus’s face lost every trace of color, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "D-Dominic? You're... you're supposed to be in bed."
"And you're supposed to be loyal," Dominic replied, taking a slow step forward. I hovered right behind him, my medical bag clutched in my left hand, ready to catch him if the sudden exertion caused him to collapse.
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"Boss, wait!" Marcus stammered, raising his hands in a frantic gesture of surrender while casting desperate glances at the armed capos. "This is a misunderstanding! The Marcones forced me—"
"You signed your name in my father's ledger, Marcus," Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. He raised the Browning and clicked the hammer back. "And in this family, betrayal doesn't come with a second chance."
