Chapter 4 - Under the Scope
The south wall of the estate was shielded by a thick canopy of weeping willows and manicured boxwood hedges.
Dusk was beginning to fall over Chicago, painting the sky in deep bruises of violet, indigo, and burnt orange. A cool wind whipped off Lake Michigan, rustling the heavy leaves and carrying the scent of approaching rain.
Tessa knelt in the damp grass beneath the exterior junction cabinet, a heavy-duty field diagnostic tablet resting on her thigh. She had discarded her blazer, working in her tailored trousers and silk blouse, her sleeves pushed up, smudges of black graphite and dust staining the immaculate ivory fabric.
Marco stood three feet behind her, his tactical suppressed submachine gun held low across his chest in a relaxed, low-ready stance. His eyes moved constantly—scanning the tree line, the road beyond the reinforced perimeter fence, the shadows cast by the setting sun.
"How long?" Marco asked quietly, without turning his head.
"Three minutes," Tessa muttered, her fingers dancing across the touchscreen while she manipulated two delicate silver probes inside the exposed wiring harness. "Whoever wired this was good. They used a dead-man's trigger on the circuit logic. If I pull the wrong relay, the whole block blows, and Moretti gets an instant alert that the trap failed."
Marco’s gaze drifted down to her.
From this angle, he could see the elegant curve of her neck, the fierce concentration etched into the profile of her face, and the undeniable strength in her shoulders. She was brilliant, unflappable, and entirely unapologetic about who she was.
In Marco’s world, women were usually kept far away from the blood and the business—either sheltered in opulent golden cages or treated as decorative accessories to display status at galas.
Tessa Morgan was neither. She was an absolute force of nature.
"You like looking at me, Duca," she said suddenly, never taking her eyes off the circuit board.
Marco didn't blink. "I'm maintaining situational awareness."
"You've been maintaining situational awareness on my backside for the last four minutes."
"It's a high-value asset," Marco replied smoothly, his tone deadpan. "I protect my investments."
Tessa let out a soft snort of laughter, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "Careful, Marco. Flattery will make me charge you double."
"You already charge me triple what you're worth."
"I am worth every single penny, and you know it." She clipped a miniature bypass lead onto a brass terminal. A soft green LED illuminated on her tablet. "Got it. The EMP trigger is neutralized. The loop is locked. As far as Moretti’s receiver is concerned, your security system is running on a five-minute delay with zero external defense."
"Good," Marco said, stepping closer. "Now we find out who gave them the coordinates."
Tessa pulled a flash drive from her pocket, slotted it into the junction port, and began dumping the packet telemetry. "The command-and-control server isn't local. The IP address bounces through three proxies in Zurich, then dumps into a private server registered to an offshore shell company in the Bahamas."
"Who owns the shell?"
"Working on it." Her fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing firewalls with the ease of a master key turning in a cheap lock. "The shell is funded through a holding company called *Aegis Maritime Logistics*."
Marco’s body went completely rigid.
Tessa felt the sudden change in the atmosphere. She looked up, over her shoulder. "That mean something to you?"
"Aegis handles my commercial shipping through the Port of Chicago," Marco said, his voice dropping into a register of pure, icy venom. "It’s managed by Enzo Vane."
"One of yours?"
"My second-in-command for transit logistics," Marco said. "He’s been with my family since my father ran the organization."
Tessa slowly stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees. She looked at Marco’s face. The aristocratic calm was gone; behind his eyes was a terrifying, ancient fury.
"If Enzo is working with Moretti," Tessa said quietly, "then this isn't just an attack on your house. It's a coup."
"Yes."
"And if they know you're here..."
"They won't hit the house tonight," Marco interrupted, his mind already three steps ahead. "Enzo knows my protocols. If the EMP transponder was supposed to clear the way, they planned to execute the breach during an external event. An event where my personal security detail is divided."
Cal’s voice crackled through Marco’s earpiece. *"Boss. We just received the confirmed guest manifest for the St. Jude Children’s Hospital Charity Auction tomorrow night at the Drake Hotel."*
Marco tapped his earpiece. "Is Enzo attending?"
*"He just confirmed his table,"* Cal replied grimly. *"And so did Lorenzo Moretti. They’ve booked adjacent private suites on the fourteenth floor."*
Marco closed his eyes for a single heartbeat, absorbing the tactical reality.
When he opened them, the cold calculation had returned.
"They're going to move on the docks while I'm at the gala," Marco said. "Enzo will use Moretti’s enforcers to take over the distribution hubs, and Lorenzo will keep me occupied in a room full of politicians, judges, and cameras where I can't shoot him."
Tessa leaned against the stone wall, tucking her tablet under her arm. "Clever. Public visibility is the best body armor in the world."
Marco looked down at her. His gaze was intense, unreadable, and searing.
"You said you consult for high-level security audits," Marco said slowly.
"I do."
"How are your skills at digital interception under social cover?"
Tessa tilted her head, a slow, predatory smile touching her lips. "Are you asking me to be your date to a charity gala, Mr. Duca?"
"I am asking you to help me dismantle a coup before midnight tomorrow," Marco corrected, though the gravelly warmth in his voice betrayed him. "And you will need a dress."
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"Duca," Tessa said, stepping close enough that her perfume overwhelmed the smell of damp grass and gunpowder, "I don't just wear dresses. I weaponize them."
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