Chapter 7
Rafael carried Amelia through the sprawling, brilliantly lit corridors of the Castellano estate, bypassing the grand living areas in favor of the secured, subterranean levels. The private office was a fortress within a mansion, reinforced with blast-resistant glass and acoustic dampening panels. He set Amelia down gently on a plush leather sofa, wrapping a warm cashmere blanket around her shoulders.
"I need to make some phone calls, Amelia," Rafael said softly, brushing her hair back. "I want you to stay right here with Maria. Watch your cartoons. Nothing is going to hurt you."
Amelia nodded, her small fingers still tightly gripping the heavy gold signet ring. A trusted nanny, Maria, entered the room with a tray of juice and cookies, her fair face pale but composed as she sat beside the child.
Rafael stepped into the adjoining strategy room, closing the heavy oak door behind him. Silas was already there, multiple monitors glowing brightly against the dark wood-paneled walls. The vivid colors of the security feeds showed the relentless rain pouring outside, illuminating the heavily armed guards pacing the perimeter.
"They are gone, Boss," Silas reported, pointing to a screen displaying the front gates. "Marcus dropped them at the county line in the rain. One suitcase each. They looked like drowned rats."
"Did they have any electronics on them?" Rafael asked, pouring himself a short glass of bourbon.
"We swept them. Cleaned them out. But Beatrice is resourceful. She’ll find a landline," Silas warned, his American accent clipped and professional. "We’ve already initiated the asset freeze. The banks confirmed the lockdown two minutes ago. They have absolutely zero liquid capital."
Rafael took a sip of the bourbon, the burn grounding him. "Beatrice doesn't need cash to start a war. She trades in favors and secrets. She knows the shipment schedules for the northern docks. If she offers that information to the Chicago outfit, they will give her an army to march back to this house."
"Then we need to strike Chicago first," Silas suggested, his eyes narrowing. "Send a message that the Castellano family is united."
"No," Rafael said, staring at the monitors. "We do not leave the estate. We fortify. Beatrice wants me to react emotionally. She wants me to overextend my forces. We wait for her to make the first move, and then we crush it so entirely that no one ever questions my daughter's inheritance again."
Suddenly, the red emergency phone on the center console began to ring. The shrill, piercing sound cut through the tense quiet of the strategy room.
May you like
Silas looked at the caller ID. "It's an encrypted line. Bouncing off a tower in downtown."
Rafael set his glass down. He reached out and picked up the receiver, pressing it to his ear. "Speak."
