Chapter 9
Mark’s face went completely white. He looked at his father’s eyes and realized there was no room left for negotiation, no room for lies, and no room for mercy.
Beside him, Claudia let out a whimpering gasp, dropping her purse onto the floor and backing into the corner with her hands raised. "Richard, please! It was all Mark! He forced me to go along with it! He told me we would lose everything if we didn't get the trust!"
"Shut up, Claudia!" Mark screamed, his sanity completely unraveling under the pressure. He turned his gun back toward Sarah, his eyes wild with desperate rage. "If I don't get the trust, nobody gets it!"
Before Mark’s finger could even tighten around the trigger, a sharp, suppressed gunshot echoed through the small cabin.
A bullet struck the stone mantle inches from Mark’s head, sending sharp rock splinters showering across his face. Mark screamed, dropping his weapon onto the wooden floor as he clutched his bleeding cheek.
Richard didn't even blink. He walked forward, stepping between Mark and Sarah. He reached down, picked up Mark’s dropped gun, and tossed it to Frank, who had just stepped through the rear entrance.
"Disarm them both," Richard commanded softly.
Frank moved instantly, forcing Mark to his knees and zip-tying his wrists behind his back. He did the same to Claudia, who was sobbing uncontrollably on the floor.
Richard turned slowly toward Sarah.
The young woman stood frozen against the stone hearth, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the veteran mafia boss who had ruled the city her whole life.
Richard slowly lowered his weapon, slipping it back into his shoulder holster. He stepped closer, his imposing, masculine presence softening as he looked down at his daughter-in-law.
"Sarah," Richard said softly, his deep voice filled with a profound, quiet emotion. "Is it true? Is Noah Dominic’s son?"
Sarah wiped her tear-streaked, rosy cheeks with the sleeve of her worn coat, her lips trembling as she looked up into Richard’s eyes. She reached down into her pocket and pulled out a small silver locket, opening it to reveal a tiny, faded photograph of Dominic smiling beside her on a sunny beach.
"Dominic loved you, Mr. Bellacorte," Sarah whispered, her voice cracking. "He built the trust to make sure Noah would never have to live in the shadows of the syndicate. He wanted his son to be free. But when Dominic passed... Mark found us. He tried to force me to give up the legal custody so he could claim the timber fortune."
Richard looked at the photograph of his deceased younger son. The grief he had carried for four years suddenly transformed into a clear, absolute clarity.
Richard reached out his hand toward Sarah. "Where is the original deed, Sarah?"
Sarah knelt down beside the stone hearth, using the iron poker to pry open a small wooden hatch in the floorboards. Inside sat an old heavy steel box. She opened the latch and pulled out a pristine, legal parchment bearing the official seals of the state of Colorado and the Bellacorte family trust.
She handed it to Richard.
Richard smoothed out the heavy parchment under the lamp light. It was complete, flawless, and legally binding. Noah was the sole, undisputed heir to the entire forty-percent stake of the Bellacorte empire, valued at over one hundred million dollars.
Richard folded the document carefully and placed it into his interior suit pocket, right next to his signet ring.
He walked over to where Mark was kneeling on the floor, weeping in shame and terror. Richard looked down at his son with cold, absolute detachment.
"You are no longer a Bellacorte," Richard said, his voice echoing through the cabin like a final judgment. "You stripped your own brother's child of his shoes. You left him in the snow to freeze. You tried to murder his mother. From this second on, Mark, you have no name, no money, and no family."
Richard turned to Frank. "Bring them down to the lower estate cellars. Hand them over to the syndicate council in Denver tomorrow morning. Let the tribunal decide their fate."
"Yes, Boss," Frank said, dragging Mark and Claudia out into the howling storm.
May you like
Richard turned back to Sarah. He took off his heavy winter coat and gently wrapped it around her frail shoulders, holding her hand with genuine, paternal warmth.
"Come home, Sarah," Richard said softly. "Your son is waiting for you."
