Chapter 3 - the silver crest
Ten minutes later, the grand private study on the second floor of the Rossi estate was bathed in the warm amber glow of a roaring fireplace.
The room smelled of old leather, cedar, and expensive bourbon. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, framing bulletproof windows that looked out over the rain-swept courtyard.
Damiano sat in his high-backed leather executive chair. He had removed his black suit jacket, rolling up his black shirt sleeves to reveal the dark, intricate tattoos covering his broad forearms. In his lap, wrapped comfortably in her soft cream blanket, baby Marisol slept peacefully, her tiny hand still clutching his thumb.
Elina sat in a velvet armchair beside the desk, holding a warm cup of tea that the head housekeeper had brought her. Her pale face was worn with exhaustion, but her eyes remained sharp and protective as she watched Damiano hold her niece.
Marco stood near the heavy oak double doors, his arms crossed, his face an unreadable mask as two armed guards stood outside in the corridor.
Damiano picked up a magnifying glass from his desk blotter and examined the silver pendant under the desk lamp.
The silver was antique, bearing fine filigree work along the border. Behind the official Rossi crest was a tiny, hidden latch.
Using his tactical blade, Damiano carefully pried open the back of the pendant.
A tiny, micro-sized digital memory chip fell out onto the green leather blotter.
Damiano’s gray-blue eyes narrowed. "This isn't just a crest, Elina. It's an encrypted data drive."
Elina looked up from her tea, her brows furrowing in surprise. "Sofia told me the pendant was just a gift Julian gave her before he died... she told me to keep it with the baby always."
Damiano picked up the micro-chip and inserted it into a secure, encrypted reader connected to his laptop.
The screen flickered to life, requiring a twenty-four-digit master security code.
"Julian’s private clearance code," Damiano whispered softly.
He typed in his late brother’s birthday, followed by the date of their mother's passing.
The screen flashed bright green: ACCESS GRANTED.
A single master folder appeared on the screen, labeled: PROJECT VANGUARD - VICTOR VANE FINANCIAL AUDIT.
Damiano opened the folder. Dozens of detailed financial ledgers, wire transfer receipts, and audio recording files populated the screen.
Damiano played the top audio recording.
A harsh, arrogant voice boomed softly through the laptop speakers—the distinct, raspy voice of Victor Vane.
"Julian is getting too close to the Cayman accounts," Victor’s recorded voice whispered over static. "If he discovers that I redirected sixty million from the European trust, ensure his vehicle doesn't reach the lake house tonight."
Elina gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in pure horror. "They... they murdered Julian..."
Damiano sat in absolute, terrifying silence. His piercing eyes turned as cold as ice, a dark, lethal promise settling over his handsome features as he closed the laptop lid.
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At that exact moment, the heavy double doors of the study were pushed open.
Walking into the room, flanked by two corporate bodyguards, was Victor Vane.
