Chapter 7 - The Confrontation at the Manor
The Ashford estate in Brookline was a massive, sprawling brick manor surrounded by manicured iron gates. To Delaney, it had once been a symbol of her marital prison. Tonight, it looked like a fortress built on a foundation of sand.
A heavy sleet was falling, coating the long driveway in black ice. Rocco’s black SUV pulled up to the security gate. The guard inside the booth stepped out, ready to turn them away, but Finn Doyle rolled down the window and showed the man the barrel of a suppressed pistol along with a cold, flat stare. The gates opened smoothly.
Rocco, Delaney, and Finn walked up the stone steps of the manor. Delaney didn't hesitate. She pushed open the heavy oak doors, walking into the grand foyer as if she still owned the place.
The house was quiet, save for the ticking of a grandfather clock. From the drawing room, the soft sound of a piano could be heard.
Delaney marched toward the sound, Rocco walking a half-step behind her, his presence a silent promise of violence if anyone dared interfere.
Sitting at the grand piano was Whitney Ashford, her blonde hair perfectly styled, but her face pale and drawn. She looked up as the doors opened, and her fingers slipped, striking a horrific, dissonant chord.
"Delaney?" Whitney gasped, standing up so fast her bench tipped backward. Her eyes darted to Rocco, and she visibly trembled. "What... what are you doing here? Mother! Mother, come quick!"
"Your mother isn't going to save you tonight, Whitney," Delaney said, her voice cutting through the room like a razor.
Catherine Ashford appeared at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a silk dressing gown, her expression instantly hardening into a mask of pure aristocratic venom when she saw Delaney. "What is the meaning of this intrusion? You signed a waiver, Delaney. You have no legal right to step foot on this property. I will call the police."
"Call them," Rocco said, his deep voice vibrating through the room. He stepped forward, tossing the letter from Grant onto the piano keys right in front of Whitney. "Tell them to bring the DEA and the federal prosecutors while you're at it."
Catherine stopped halfway down the stairs, her face turning an unearthly shade of gray as she recognized the Ashford Group letterhead.
Whitney looked down at the paper, her eyes skimming her brother's frantic handwriting. She burst into tears, covering her mouth. "Oh god. Grant... I told him. I told him Rocco would find out."
"You knew everything," Delaney said, stepping up to her former sister-in-law. "You knew Grant and Isabella were laundering synthetic drugs through Bellandi Shipping. You knew your mother forced me out into the freezing cold, froze my bank accounts, and ruined my reputation to keep me from finding out the truth during the probate process."
"We had to!" Catherine hissed from the stairs, her aristocratic facade completely shattering, exposing the ugly, desperate criminal beneath. "Grant was weak! He let that Bellandi woman convince him they could skim off the top. When she died, we had to clean up his mess. And then you, Delaney... you were always prying, always asking questions. If you had inherited his shares, you would have looked at the books. We did what was necessary to protect this family!"
"By trying to steal my children?" Rocco roared, his voice shaking the crystal chandelier above. He stepped toward Catherine, his presence so terrifying that the older woman instinctively backed up a step against the banister. "You used the Whitfields to file for custody. You tried to destroy my life because you were afraid of your own shadows."
"It wasn't me!" Whitney sobbed, collapsing to her knees. "Delaney, I swear, I didn't want to hurt you! Mother made the deal with Charles Whitfield. They were going to use the custody battle to keep Mr. Bellandi distracted while we liquidated the remaining offshore accounts and left the country!"
"Whitney, shut your mouth!" Catherine screamed.
"No, Mother!" Whitney yelled back, her guilt finally consuming her. "It’s over! Don't you see? He knows!"
Delaney looked down at Whitney with a mixture of pity and disgust, then turned to look at Catherine. "It is over, Catherine. You thought I was weak because I gave everything to take care of your son while he died. You thought because I had nothing left, I would just disappear. But you forgot one thing: I am a Bellandi now. And we protect our own."
From the shadows of the foyer, Finn Doyle stepped forward, holding up a smartphone. The screen showed a live recording indicator. "Everything uploaded directly to a secure cloud server, Boss. Fed prosecutors already have the ping."
Catherine sank onto the stairs, her eyes hollow, realizing that her empire of secrets had just been dismantled in less than ten minutes.
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"Let’s go home," Delaney said to Rocco, turning her back on the Ashfords forever.
As they walked down the steps into the falling sleet, Rocco pulled Delaney close against his side, wrapping his massive arm around her to shield her from the wind. For the first time in four years, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter. The truth was out. The threat to his daughters was neutralizing. And the woman beside him had just proven she was the fiercest protector his family could have ever asked for.
