Chapter 5 - The Trial of the Vipers
The basement beneath Pier 88 was cold, damp, and smelled of salt water and rust.
Fluorescent light tubes hung from the concrete ceiling, casting a harsh, sickly glow over three wooden chairs bolted to the floor.
In those chairs sat Arthur Vane—a wealthy, aristocratic man in his sixties with silver hair and a sharp suit—his daughter Celeste, and Mateo Moretti. All three were bound with heavy plastic zip-ties, guarded by six of Garrett’s most lethal enforcers.
The heavy steel door groaned as it swung open.
Garrett walked into the room. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the dark, intricate tattoos covering his skin—tattoos representing the bloodline and history of the Hardwick family. Behind him walked Dominic, carrying a heavy leather briefcase.
Arthur Vane spat blood onto the concrete floor, glaring at Garrett with sneering contempt.
"You can't do this, Hardwick!" Arthur barked, trying to sound commanding despite the zip-ties cutting into his wrists. "I am a major shareholder in the city's port authority! I have senators in my pocket! If I disappear, the federal government will tear your empire apart!"
Garrett didn't reply. He walked over to a small metal table, opened Dominic’s briefcase, and pulled out a stack of thick, legal documents stamped with official state seals.
"You don't have senators anymore, Arthur," Garrett said calmly, sliding the papers across the table. "An hour ago, your board of directors voted unanimously to remove you as chairman. Your offshore accounts in the Caymans have been frozen by the Treasury Department—courtesy of evidence Dominic provided to an old friend in the FBI."
Arthur’s face turned gray. "You... you went to the feds?"
"I don't need the feds to kill you, Arthur," Garrett said coldly, walking over to stand directly in front of the older man. "I used the feds to strip you of your money, your power, and your name. So that when you die tonight, you die as nothing."
Celeste burst into fresh tears, shaking in her chair. "Garrett, please! I didn't know my father killed Maya! I swear I didn't know! I just wanted to be your wife! I wanted the title!"
Garrett looked down at Celeste, his eyes showing no mercy, no nostalgia, no pity.
"You abused the staff in my home for two years," Garrett said, his voice dropping into a register that made Celeste shudder. "You framed an innocent woman for theft. You tried to sell my sister's orphaned baby to the men who murdered her mother. You are just as guilty as your father."
He turned to Mateo Moretti.
"And you," Garrett continued, stepping toward Maya’s former fiancé. "You stood by and let Arthur put a bomb under Maya’s car because she refused to give you her trust fund. You thought you could inherit her wealth through a child you intended to control."
Mateo glared up at Garrett, his jaw set, his eyes filled with bitter hatred. "Your sister was a foolish girl who thought she could escape this life, Garrett! She belonged to the Morettis!"
BANG.
Garrett drew his weapon and fired once.
The bullet shattered the concrete floor an inch between Mateo’s boots, sending sharp stone chips tearing into his trousers. Mateo yelled out, pulling his legs back in terror.
"She belonged to no one," Garrett growled, his face inches from Mateo’s trembling nose. "She was a Hardwick. And her daughter will carry her name, not yours."
Garrett straightened up, turning his back on the three captives.
"Dominic," Garrett ordered smoothly. "Arthur Vane and Mateo Moretti will be placed on a cargo container bound for a private facility in South America. They will spend the rest of their lives performing hard labor in a gold mine owned by our associates."
"And Celeste, Boss?" Dominic asked.
Garrett looked at his former fiancée one last time.
"Transfer her to a state psychiatric facility under a strict lockdown order," Garrett commanded coldly. "She loved attention and luxury. Let her spend the next thirty years in a white room with no mirrors and no audience."
"No! NO! GARRETT, PLEASE!" Celeste screamed, her voice echoing through the damp basement as the guards stepped forward to haul her away. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! I'M CELESTE VANE!"
Garrett didn't look back as he walked out of the pier basement into the crisp morning air.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Hudson River, casting golden light across the water, burning away the dark, icy fog that had shrouded the city for days.
Dominic walked out behind him, handing Garrett a glowing tablet.
"The estate has been completely swept, Boss," Dominic reported. "Every staff member hired by Celeste has been terminated and replaced. Laura and the baby are safe at the Manhattan penthouse under double guard."
Garrett looked at the screen, which showed a live security feed of the Manhattan apartment.
On the screen, Laura was sitting near the window, holding Clara in her lap, feeding her sliced apples while reading a book out loud. The warm morning sun bathed them both in a soft, ethereal glow.
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Garrett’s heart, once a cold stone carved by years of violence and grief, felt lighter than it had in a decade.
"Prepare the helicopter, Dominic," Garrett said, a quiet, absolute resolve in his voice. "I'm going home."
