Chapter 9 - The Defense of the Estate
The grand foyer of the Moretti estate was illuminated only by the warm glow of the crystal chandelier overhead as Vance and I stepped out onto the sweeping staircase. Below us, the massive mahogany front doors shuddered under the weight of heavy blows, accompanied by muffled shouts and threats from outside.
With a loud crack, the heavy iron latch gave way, and the front doors swung open wide.
Three burly enforcers in dark tactical gear stepped into the foyer, led by a scarred lieutenant named Marcus, who sneered as he looked up at me standing on the stairs.
"Moretti," Marcus barked, resting a hand on the grip of a suppressed firearm at his hip. "Party's over. We know about the slush funds Evelyn was running. Victor wants his cut, and we're here to take inventory of this house."
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't reach for a weapon. I simply descended the stairs at a slow, measured pace, every step echoing like a death knell through the silent foyer.
"Victor Sterling sent errand boys to do a boss's job," I said, my voice cutting through the cavernous space with absolute chilling authority. "You broke into private property. You threatened my home. And most importantly... you interrupted my evening."
Marcus laughed harshly, stepping forward. "You think you're untouchable just because you sit in this big house? Times have changed, Moretti. Your household is compromised, and—"
Before Marcus could finish his sentence, the side doors flanking the foyer burst open. Within a fraction of a second, a dozen of my top-tier security operatives emerged from the shadows, their weapons raised and locked squarely on the intruders.
At the same time, the front doors behind the enforcers were abruptly blocked by two armored vehicles, cutting off any possibility of retreat.
Marcus’s face drained of color as he realized he had walked straight into a meticulously laid trap. He slowly raised his hands, his bravado evaporating in an instant.
"Drop your weapons," I commanded softly, stopping just a few feet away from him.
Marcus hesitated, his fingers twitching near his holster, but the red laser dots dancing across his chest from our sniper positions convinced him otherwise. He unclipped his firearm and let it drop heavily to the marble floor, followed quickly by his men.
"Vance," I said without looking back. "Tie them up, toss them in the back of an unmarked van, and deliver them directly to Victor Sterling’s primary warehouse downtown. Leave a message for Victor: If any of his men ever set foot within ten miles of my estate again, I won't just send his enforcers back—I'll come collect the debt in person."
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"Understood, boss," Vance said, gesturing to the guards who immediately swarmed the intruders and hauled them out into the cold night air.
Within minutes, the foyer was quiet again. The heavy front doors were repaired and relatched, and the dark cloud that had momentarily threatened our peace vanished into the night.
