Chapter 5 - THE BLACK-TIE SNARE
The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Plaza Hotel threw fractured light across a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos. It was the social event of the season, a glittering facade masking a gathering of the most ruthless criminal empires in the country.
Amber descended the grand staircase wearing a backless, emerald-green silk gown that clung to her curves, her hair swept up in a diamond clip Fabiano had gifted her. She was no longer wearing a waitress uniform. She looked like a queen stepping into her court. The room stopped to stare, but Amber only cared about the eyes of two men: Fabiano, who watched her with predatory pride from the VIP balcony, and Marco Pinto, who stood near the bar, his face draining of color as he realized the woman he tried to kill was still breathing.
The plan was highly dangerous, relying entirely on Marco’s paranoia.
Amber moved through the crowd, deliberately isolating herself near a secluded terrace. Marco took the bait. Desperate to find out what she knew and finish the job before Fabiano could act, he followed her out into the cool night air.
"You have nine lives, little waitress," Marco hissed, stepping out of the shadows. He locked the terrace door behind him. He reached inside his tuxedo jacket, pulling out a silenced pistol. "But luck runs out."
"It wasn't luck," Amber said, turning to face him. She kept her voice perfectly level, praying the hidden microphone pinned to her bodice was broadcasting clearly. "It was arrogance. Your arrogance, Marco. You bought the fifteenth-century vellum through your Cayman subsidiary. You hired the forger in Prague. You orchestrated the $150 million fraud to drain Fabiano’s reserves and stage a coup."
"Brilliant girl," Marco sneered, raising the gun. "Too bad your brilliance gets you killed tonight. Yes, I ordered the forgery. Yes, I ordered the hit on Fabiano. He’s weak. He cares too much about legacy, about doing things cleanly. The Pinto family belongs to me."
"Thank you for the confession, cousin," a voice boomed.
The glass doors of the terrace shattered as Fabiano stepped through, flanked not just by his own loyal guards, but by the heads of the three other major crime families. Marco’s face contorted in sheer panic as he realized his words had been broadcast directly into the private VIP lounge.
Before Marco could turn his weapon, Fabiano fired a single shot. It struck Marco in the shoulder, dropping him instantly to the stone floor. The guards moved in, disarming and restraining the traitor.
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Fabiano ignored his bleeding cousin. He walked straight to Amber, holstering his weapon, his eyes entirely soft as he looked at her. "Are you alright, mia luce?"
"I'm perfectly fine," she smiled, her adrenaline soaring.
