Chapter 5
The cellar beneath the estate’s wine vault was cold, damp, and lit by a single industrial halogen bulb hanging from an exposed conduit.
Marcella sat on a splintered wooden crate in the center of the concrete floor. Her ivory wedding dress was smeared with black grease and damp dust, the delicate lace sleeves torn at the shoulders. Her hands were zip-tied behind her back, her hair a wild, disheveled tangle around her pale face.
The heavy iron door swung open with a screech that echoed off the stone walls.
Rafe entered first, holding an assault rifle at the low ready. Behind him walked Nico.
Nico pulled a metal folding chair from the wall, set it down three feet in front of his sister, and sat down. He rested his forearms on his knees, holding the printed shipping manifests in his right hand.
"Nico..." Marcella pleaded, her voice hoarse from shouting into the dark. "Please, untie me. My arms are losing circulation. We can talk about this like brother and sister."
"We are not brother and sister, Marcella," Nico said, his deep, raspy voice perfectly calm, every syllable measured with terrifying weight. "You stopped being my sister the day you put digitalis into Julianna’s tea."
Marcella went rigid. The color drained from her face so fast she appeared translucent beneath the white bulb. "She... she told you."
"She recorded it," Nico said. "Forty-eight hours before she stopped breathing. While you were sitting beside her bed, holding her hand, telling her that you would look after Vivia."
Marcella looked down at the concrete floor. The trembling in her shoulders stopped. When she looked back up, the desperate, pleading sister was gone. In her place was the bitter, venomous woman who had spent a decade coveting the throne.
"She was weak, Nico!" Marcella spat, her American accent sharp and venomous. "She was an outsider from Boston with no stomach for blood! You were going soft because of her! You refused to take the northern terminals from the Corbans because she begged you to keep the peace! You were ruining our father's empire!"
"Our father built this empire on discipline," Nico replied softly. "Not on butchering mothers in their beds."
"I did what had to be done to save this family!" Marcella shouted, leaning forward against the zip-ties. "Vincent Corban is a real boss! He has three hundred soldiers, federal judges in his pocket, and access to the deep-water ports! When we merge our lines tonight, the Bellandi name will rule the entire eastern seaboard!"
Nico tilted his head, studying her with the detached curiosity of an executioner examining a condemned cell. "You think Vincent Corban is going to share a throne with you, Marcella?"
"We signed a treaty!" she sneered. "We signed a legal contract!"
Nico tossed the printed papers onto her lap.
"Read page four, Marcella," Nico murmured. "The secondary liquidation clause."
Marcella looked down at the papers resting against her ruined lace. Her eyes darted across the printed text.
"'In the event of the elimination of Don Nico Bellandi,'" Nico quoted from memory, his voice dropping into an arctic register, "'all maritime assets, union charters, and territorial rights of the Bellandi syndicate shall transfer exclusively to Vincent Corban. The surviving spouse, Marcella Bellandi, shall receive a one-time settlement of five million dollars and immediate exile to the Mediterranean under armed surveillance.'"
Marcella’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in sheer, paralyzed horror. "No... no, that's impossible. Vincent told me we were partners. He promised me the seat in Manhattan!"
"You sold your brother for five million dollars and a ticket to an Italian cage, Marcella," Nico whispered, standing to his full height. "You were never his bride. You were his inside key."
From the ceiling above, the muffled, heavy thud of distant engines vibrated through the foundation.
May you like
Rafe looked up, his radio crackling with static.
"Boss," the perimeter guard’s voice reported over the channel. "Corban’s convoy just cleared the main gate. They aren't stopping at the checkpoint. They're heading straight for the courtyard."
