Chapter 4
The air on the terrace felt as thick as glass. Genevieve struggled to push the collapsed cabana fabric off her face, coughing violently. Her chic resort-wear was ruined, her designer sunglasses shattered on the stone tiles. She looked up at Marcus, the terrifying realization settling in that her perfect, manipulative world had just been utterly destroyed.
"Marcus, please," Genevieve gasped, clutching her ribs. "You don't understand. The New York families… they made us do it. They wanted your territory. Maya was going to tell you about the embezzlement!"
Marcus didn't blink. He raised his left hand, flashing his gold signet ring, and snapped his fingers once.
Immediately, twelve of his personal, heavily armed bodyguards drew their weapons. The metallic clacking of firearms chambering rounds echoed across the sunny lawn. The other capos and guests at the party—many of whom were loyal to Julian and Genevieve's faction—froze entirely, their hands raised slightly in surrender.
"Lock down the perimeter," Marcus ordered his men, speaking slowly, deliberately. "No one leaves this estate. Any man who touches his phone or his weapon is to be shot in the head. Understood?"
"Yes, Boss," the lead bodyguard replied, motioning for his men to corral the terrified guests toward the far end of the garden, entirely separating them from the stone wall.
Marcus stepped closer to Genevieve. He leaned down, his deep, rich warm-brown skin contrasting with the stark white of his ivory suit. "I am not going to ask you twice, Genevieve. Open this wall. Or I will have my men nail you to the bottom of the pool."
Genevieve sobbed, a pathetic, broken sound. She crawled on her hands and knees across the wet tiles toward the stone wall. Her trembling, manicured fingers reached toward a loose stone near the base. She pressed it inward, then slid it to the right.
A heavy, hydraulic hiss emanated from deep within the earth.
The seemingly solid stone wall shuddered, then slowly ground open on concealed steel hinges, revealing a dark, damp concrete staircase leading deep beneath the pool terrace. A blast of cold, stale air washed over the sun-drenched patio.
"Mrs. Higgins," Marcus said without looking away from the dark descent.
"Yes, sir?" the nanny replied, her voice shaking as she held Chloe tight.
"Take my daughter to my private study. Lock the reinforced doors. Do not open them for anyone except me."
"I love you, Daddy," Chloe whispered, her golden-brown face pressed against the nanny's shoulder.
May you like
"I love you too, my beautiful girl," Marcus said, the icy edge of his voice softening for a fraction of a second. "I am bringing Mommy home."
Marcus grabbed Genevieve roughly by the back of her silk tunic, hauling her to her feet. "Walk," he commanded, shoving her toward the dark mouth of the staircase. "And pray that she is still breathing."
