Chapter 7
The descent into the lower levels of the Montelli estate was a stark transition from the bright, elegant video colors of the ballroom above. The basement holding area was illuminated by harsh, unforgiving fluorescent lights, reflecting off cold concrete floors. Corinne Vale, stripped of her diamond jewelry and her aristocratic dignity, sat bound to a heavy metal chair in the center of the room. Her luxurious formal gown was ruined, stained with sweat and tears.
Alistair walked into the room. He had removed his tailored suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt, fully exposing the refined linework tattoos on his forearms. He carried a thick, manila folder in his hands.
"Boss, the perimeter is secured," the lead capo reported, standing by the steel door. "Her father has been calling repeatedly. He claims he has no idea what is happening, but he is mobilizing his street soldiers just in case."
"Let him mobilize," Alistair replied softly, tossing the manila folder onto a small metal table in front of Corinne. "If he moves against the estate, execute him."
Alistair pulled up a simple wooden chair and sat down directly across from his terrified fiancée. The deeply masculine, intimidating presence he exuded filled the small, concrete room, making the air feel thin.
"Three years ago, the brakes on my wife's vehicle failed on a mountain pass," Alistair began, his American accent flat and methodical. He tapped his tattooed finger against the manila folder. "The mechanics ruled it a catastrophic mechanical failure. The police agreed. I accepted it, because I had no enemies who stood to gain from her death."
Corinne wept, shaking her head violently. "I had nothing to do with it, Alistair! I swear on my life! We hadn't even met yet!"
"That is true," Alistair conceded, leaning forward slightly. "We met a year later. At a charity gala hosted by your father. A gala designed... specifically to introduce us. A merger of our two families."
He opened the folder, pulling out several glossy crime scene photographs. He didn't look at them; he pushed them across the table toward her.
"Your family stood to gain the most from her death," Alistair said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register. "With her gone, I was vulnerable. I needed a new alliance to secure the southern borders. Your father offered me that alliance, and he offered me you."
"My father is an honorable man!" Corinne shrieked. "He wouldn't murder a woman just for a business merger!"
"I don't care about your father right now," Alistair whispered, his cold, penetrating eyes locking onto hers. "I care about what you know. You told my caregiver that she would disappear... like my wife did. That is specific, Corinne. That implies a coordinated removal. Not an accident."
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Corinne squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing hysterically, desperately trying to protect the horrifying secret that her family had built their wealth upon. But looking into the eyes of the veteran Mafia boss, she realized there was no escape. She was going to die in this room if she didn't speak, and likely die anyway if she did.
"I heard them talking!" Corinne finally confessed, her voice breaking into a pathetic, breathless wheeze. "A month before we met! I heard my father talking to his enforcers in his study! They paid the mechanic at the dealership! They cut the brake lines, Alistair! They murdered her so my father could force you to marry me!"
