Chapter 6
"I... I was being extorted!" Marcella stammered, her chest heaving as she frantically searched for a lifeline. Her beautiful, rosy face was completely distorted by panic. "The Irish syndicate! They had compromising photographs of me, Nico! I paid them off to protect the family name! I swear it had nothing to do with Elena!"
"Play the audio file," Nico instructed Rafe, completely ignoring his sister's desperate lies.
Rafe clicked on the first audio file in the folder. A crisp, digitally recorded phone conversation began to play through the laptop's speakers. The sound quality was perfect, ringing out clearly across the bright, silent ballroom.
"The transfer cleared, Marcella," a gravelly, male voice spoke through the speakers.
"Are you certain it cannot be traced back to the primary trust?" Marcella’s unmistakable, sharp American accent echoed back from the recording.
"My guys washed it through three different shell companies in Panama," the man replied. "Now, regarding your sister-in-law. The mechanic is in place. He will tamper with the brake lines while the car is parked at the charity gala. When she takes the mountain road home, the fluid will bleed out entirely."
"Make sure it looks like a tragic accident," Marcella’s recorded voice demanded coldly. "Nico must never suspect foul play. If he thinks she was murdered, he will burn the city down looking for the culprit. He needs to believe she simply lost control of the wheel."
"It will be flawless," the man assured her. "But why are you doing this, Marcella? She is just a civilian."
"She is not a civilian, she is a parasite," Marcella’s voice spat with venomous hatred. "She is filling his head with ideas of going legitimate. She wants him to step down and move to the country to raise that wretched little girl. If Nico steps down, the syndicate falls to our cousins. I will not lose my inheritance because of a weak, bleeding-heart housewife. I am protecting my birthright."
The recording clicked off, leaving the grand, bright ballroom enveloped in a suffocating, deadly silence.
Nico stood perfectly still. His broad, muscular shoulders were rigid, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. The sheer magnitude of the betrayal threatened to rip his chest open. The woman he had grown up with, the sister he had protected his entire life, had orchestrated the murder of the only woman he had ever truly loved.
"Aunt Marcella killed Mommy?" Vivia whispered, her small voice cutting through the heavy silence like a razor blade.
Nico looked down at his daughter. He saw the tears welling up in her large, innocent eyes, and he felt a cold, dark resolve settle into his bones.
"Yes, Vivia," Nico said softly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "She did."
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"Nico, please!" Marcella shrieked, crawling toward him, her hands leaving bloody prints on the marble from the broken glass. "I was trying to save you! She was making you weak! You are the king of this city! A king cannot be tied down by a woman who hates the life!"
Nico looked down at her. "She made me human. You just made me your executioner."
