Chapter 7 - RECKONING ON THE ROOF
Heavy rain lashed against the helipad on the mansion roof as a black helicopter hovered fifty feet above the landing zone, lowering its landing gear.
Victoria stood near the ledge, holding a silver briefcase containing forty million dollars in bearer bonds, her coat soaked with rain, waiting frantically for the chopper to touch down.
The heavy steel roof door was kicked open.
Lorenzo stepped out into the pouring rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, holding his sidearm aimed directly at Victoria’s chest.
"It's over, Victoria," Lorenzo called out over the deafening roar of the helicopter blades.
Victoria turned around, her face pale, her eyes wild with desperation. She backed up until her heels were inches from the edge of the four-story roof.
"You can't shoot me, Lorenzo!" she shrieked over the wind. "If I die, the encryption codes for the family’s international accounts die with me! The Bellandi syndicate will crumble within forty-eight hours!"
"Let it crumble," Lorenzo said calmly, taking a step closer. "I don't care about the money. I care about Elena. And I care about Isabella."
"Elena was weak!" Victoria spat, her voice filled with venomous envy. "She wanted you to leave the business! She wanted to turn our family into a charity! I did what was necessary to protect our empire!"
"You didn't protect an empire," Lorenzo said, his voice cold as the rain. "You built a cage."
Lorenzo pulled the remote detonator switch from his pocket—the one linked to the estate’s secondary perimeter security jammer. He pressed the button.
A high-frequency electromagnetic burst pulsed through the air.
The electronic navigation controls of the hovering helicopter short-circuited instantly. The chopper veered wildly sideways, its tail rotor clipping the high stone chimney of the East Wing with a shower of sparks before spinning away out of control and crashing safely into the empty lake five hundred yards away.
Victoria shrieked as the wind from the spinning rotor knocked her off balance. She slipped on the wet stone ledge, her briefcase tumbling four stories into the courtyard below.
She caught the edge of the roof with her fingers, dangling dangerously over the drop.
"Lorenzo! Help me!" she screamed, her nails digging into the wet stone. "Please! I'm your family!"
Lorenzo walked slowly to the edge of the roof, looking down at the woman who had murdered his wife and caged his daughter.
He reached down, taking her wrist—not to pull her up, but to look her dead in the eye.
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"You stopped being my family the moment you put a collar around my daughter's neck," Lorenzo said softly.
He let go.
