Chapter 6 - THE VAULT
“Call the family doctor! Not 911!” Adrian barked, laying his mother flat on the Persian rug. He tore his tie off and loosened her collar. Rose’s breathing was shallow and ragged.
I hit the speed dial for Dr. Aris on my phone, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped the device. He answered on the first ring.
“Dr. Aris, it’s Anna. We are locked in Mrs. Bellandi’s study. She’s been poisoned. Oleander, I think. She’s struggling to breathe.”
“I’m already in the house,” the doctor’s voice came back, terse and professional. “I’m on my way up with the charcoal and atropine. Get the door open.”
I hung up and looked at Adrian. He had already drawn his weapon and was aiming at the locked heavy oak doors.
“Step back,” he ordered.
He fired twice into the antique brass lock. Wood splintered, and the mechanism shattered. I grabbed the handle and yanked the doors open just as Dr. Aris sprinted down the hallway, a black medical bag in hand.
“Go,” the doctor said, pushing past us and dropping to his knees beside Rose. “I have her.”
Adrian didn’t hesitate. He turned and sprinted down the corridor toward the west wing. I ran right behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Celeste poured that tea before she left the dining room,” I shouted over the echo of our footsteps. “She’s trying to wipe out the whole leadership tonight.”
“She’s not packing,” Adrian snarled, his eyes dark with lethal intent. “She’s going for the vault.”
We burst through the double doors of the west wing, pushing past startled security guards who hadn't yet realized the house was under siege from the inside.
The family vault was located behind a hidden panel in the billiards room. When we skidded into the room, the panel was already slid open, revealing the heavy steel door of the safe.
The door was wide open.
Adrian raised his gun and stepped carefully into the vault, motioning for me to stay back. I hovered in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.
The vault was lined with safe deposit boxes, stacks of bearer bonds, and velvet trays of family jewels.
Celeste was standing in the center of the room. She was holding a faded, yellowed envelope—the late husband’s letter.
“Put it down, Celeste,” Adrian said, his voice deadly quiet.
Celeste didn't look terrified. She looked triumphant. She slipped the letter into her designer purse and turned to face him.
“You’re too late, Adrian,” she smiled, a cold, empty expression. “The poison should be finishing your mother off right about now. With you out of power and your mother gone, the Bellandi estate falls into receivership. And since I’m technically still your documented beneficiary... I win.”
“You’re not walking out of this house alive,” Adrian promised, stepping forward.
“Oh, I think she is.”
The voice came from behind me.
I spun around.
Standing in the doorway of the vault, leveling a heavy revolver directly at Adrian’s head, was Uncle Raymond.
He looked exactly as calm and distinguished as he had at the dinner table, but his eyes were entirely devoid of warmth.
“Drop the gun, Adrian,” Raymond ordered.
Adrian froze, his eyes darting from Celeste to his uncle. “Raymond? You’re working with her?”
“Working with her?” Raymond chuckled dryly. “Adrian, my boy, I brought her into this family.”
My mind reeled. Uncle Raymond. The neutral arbiter. The man who had demanded the ballots be checked.
“You killed my father,” Adrian breathed, realization dawning on his face.
“Your father was a brute who was running this family into the ground,” Raymond said, stepping fully into the room and keeping the gun steady. “He stole the East River territory from the Morettis, leaving a mess of bad blood. I simply... made an alliance. I promised the Moretti girl here that if she helped me bankrupt your sector and remove you from power, she could have her family’s territory back.”
“And you get to be the head of the family,” I said, speaking out loud before I could stop myself.
Raymond glanced at me, annoyed. “The maid who talks too much. You should have minded your trays, Anna. Now, Adrian. Kick the gun away. Or I shoot her first.”
He pointed the revolver directly at my chest.
Adrian didn’t hesitate. He dropped his weapon and kicked it across the floor.
“Good boy,” Raymond smiled. “Now, hand over your signet ring. The transition of power needs to look official.”
Raymond stepped forward to take the ring.
Suddenly, a distinct, sharp click echoed from the back of the vault.
A silver lighter flared to life in the shadows.
May you like
Victor stepped out from behind a tall stack of lockboxes. His face was covered in soot, his shirt torn, but his eyes were blazing. He held the lighter directly under a massive stack of bearer bonds worth tens of millions of dollars.
“Hello, Uncle,” Victor said smoothly. “Looking for these?”
