Chapter 4 - The Threat at the Gate
The following morning broke clear and brittle, cold sunshine reflecting off the wet pavement of the estate drive.
At 8:00 a.m., a sleek black Lincoln Navigator pulled up to the heavy wrought-iron gates of Moretti Manor. The tinted windows were rolled down just three inches, revealing the sharp, ruthless profile of Marcus Vance—Victor Vance’s younger brother and the head of security for Vance Development.
In the security office near the gate, Julian watched the vehicle through four high-definition cameras. He pressed the intercom button.
"State your business," Julian’s voice echoed through the gate speaker.
"Tell Julian Moretti his old friend Marcus is outside," a raspy, tobacco-stained voice came through the speaker. "I brought a personal message from Victor. Open the gate."
Inside the main study, I was standing by the window, watching the gates through binoculars. Beside me stood Sophia, her hands trembling as she held a tray of breakfast tea she had forgotten to set down.
"He's here," Sophia gasped, her face draining of color. "That's Marcus Vance. He's the one who came to my apartment... he's the one who threatened Emma."
I set the binoculars down on the windowsill and turned to face her. "Go to the safe room in the basement with Emma. Right now. Do not come out until I come down to get you personally."
"Mr. Moretti, please don't go out there," she begged, tears spilling over her lashes. "They are dangerous men. They don't care about rules!"
"Neither do I, Sophia," I said calmly.
I reached into the top drawer of my desk, pulled out a heavy, custom black 9mm pistol, checked the magazine with a practiced click, and slid it into the shoulder holster concealed beneath my tailored suit jacket.
I walked out of the house, down the wide marble steps, and crossed the long asphalt driveway toward the front gates. Julian walked half a step behind me, his hand resting casually inside his jacket pocket where his own weapon sat ready.
As we reached the gates, I signaled the security guard in the booth to open them.
The heavy iron gates swung open with a slow, metallic groan. Marcus Vance stepped out of the back of the Navigator. He was a broad-shouldered man in his late forties, wearing an expensive leather coat over a sharp grey suit. His eyes were cold, small, and calculating—the eyes of a predator who had spent thirty years breaking bones for his family's empire.
Two heavily armed bodyguards in dark suits stepped out behind him, their hands tucked into their jackets, their eyes scanning the estate trees.
"Julian," Marcus smiled, a sinister, yellow-toothed grin that didn't reach his eyes. "You haven't changed a bit. Still living like a hermit in this big, empty museum."
"State your business, Marcus," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "You have thirty seconds before I have my perimeter guards clear this driveway."
Marcus chuckled, taking a slow step forward, looking past me toward the grand mansion. "Victor heard a rumor yesterday. A rumor that your private security team has been poking around the land registries for the River North high-rise project."
"Did he?"
"Yeah," Marcus said, his smile fading into a sharp, dangerous scowl. "Victor thought that was very strange. You've been quiet for three years, Julian. You've been hiding behind your ivy walls, playing the grieving widower. We liked you better when you were quiet."
I stepped closer to him, stopping less than three feet away. I was three inches taller than Marcus Vance, and the sheer, suffocating gravity of my presence forced his bodyguards to take a step forward in tension.
"Tell Victor," I spoke, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that made the air between us feel frozen, "that I know about the structural rebar on forty-two. I know about Thomas Carter's tool chest. And I know about the four million dollars he paid to the Gary salvage crew to fish my wife's black box out of Lake Michigan."
Marcus’s yellow-toothed smile vanished instantly. His eyes widened slightly, a flash of genuine shock registering in his expression before his professional composure slammed back shut.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Moretti," Marcus growled, his voice dropping into a raspy threat. "Your wife made the mistake of digging into things that didn't concern her. Look where it got her. Look where it got her little girl."
The mention of Arya broke the final thread of my restraint.
In a move so fast Marcus's bodyguards couldn't even react, my left hand shot out and clamped around Marcus Vance’s throat like an iron vise. I slammed him backward against the hood of his own Navigator, the metal crashing loudly under the impact.
"AH!" Marcus choked out, his eyes bulging as my fingers dug into his windpipe.
His two bodyguards instantly drew their handguns—
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
Before the bodyguards could raise their weapons, six red laser dots appeared simultaneously on their chests and foreheads. On the roof of Moretti Manor and from the high oak trees surrounding the driveway, my sniper team had their high-powered rifles locked onto their vitals.
"Drop the weapons," Julian commanded calmly, drawing his own pistol and leveling it directly at the lead bodyguard's face. "Or your brains will be covering this windshield before your bodies hit the pavement."
The two bodyguards froze, sweat breaking out across their brows. Slowly, carefully, they lowered their handguns and set them on the hood of the car.
I leaned down until my face was inches from Marcus Vance's purple, suffocating face.
"You came to my house to threaten me, Marcus?" I whispered, my green eyes burning with an unholy, lethal fire. "You tell Victor that I am coming for him. Every building he owns, every dollar he hoarded, every corrupt judge he bought—I am going to burn it all to the ground. And when I am done with his empire, I am going to put him in the exact same cold water he put my daughter in."
I released his throat.
Marcus fell to his knees on the asphalt, coughing violently, gasping for air, clutching his bruised neck with both hands.
"Get off my property," I commanded, turning my back on him and walking slowly back toward the stone steps of my estate. "And if I see a Vance car on this road again, I won't use words."
Marcus scrambled back into the Navigator, his bodyguards shoving their weapons back into their jackets and diving into the front seats. The SUV reversed violently, tire smoke screaming against the wet pavement, and sped away down the winding drive.
Julian walked up beside me as the iron gates slammed shut once more.
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"He'll go straight to Victor," Julian said, his breathing steady despite the standoff. "The war has officially begun, Boss."
"Good," I said, looking up at the gray sky above Moretti Manor. "I've been waiting three years for this war to start."
