Chapter 7 - A Mother’s Hidden Vow
The heavy bronze struck Victor's kneecap with a sickening crack. Victor roared in pain, his balance breaking as his shot went wild, shattering a glass cabinet behind the desk.
Aleandro moved like a panther. In a fraction of a second, he closed the distance, grabbing Victor's wrist, slamming it against the edge of the mahogany desk until the gun clattered to the floor. Aleandro delivered a brutal elbow to Victor’s jaw, knocking the older man down onto the carpet.
"Emma, run to your mother!" Aleandro commanded, pulling his own custom sidearm from his shoulder holster.
Emma didn't hesitate; she dashed out through the secret wall panel that Aleandro had left unlatched.
Victor spat blood onto the rug, laughing darkly through his bruised lips. "It doesn't matter, Aleandro! My men control the perimeter! The main gate is locked down, and Chicago is waiting for my call! If I die, Sophia’s sister dies! If I live, you die!"
"You forgot one thing, Victor," Aleandro said, standing over him with absolute authority. "You thought you controlled this house. But you only controlled the men who cared about money."
The study door burst open. Expecting his mercenaries, Victor grinned—but his smile instantly evaporated.
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Standing in the doorway was Clara, holding a heavy double-barreled hunting shotgun that belonged to the late Don Moretti, flanked by five loyal, veteran estate guards who had served Aleandro's father for decades. Behind them lay Victor’s hired mercenaries, disarmed and zip-tied in the hallway.
"The household staff knows every inch of this estate, Mr. Romano," Clara said, her voice shaking with righteous fury, the shotgun locked firmly on Victor's chest. "And we take care of our own."
