Chapter 7 - broken trust
Without wasting another second, Gabriel sprinted out of the basement vault, leaving four armed guards to secure the steel door. He crossed the marble main hall, took the side exit, and marched straight into the glass conservatory under the pouring midnight rain.
The estate greenhouse was dark, filled with the heavy scent of damp soil and blooming flora. Gabriel pulled a tactical flashlight from his belt, sweeping the beam across the rows of red rosebushes along the northern wall.
He stopped in front of a massive, fifty-year-old crimson rosebush planted in a stone container.
Gabriel reached down into the rich soil, digging with his bare hands beneath the root base. His fingers brushed against a cold, rectangular metallic object.
He pulled out a heavy steel cash box sealed with a heavy brass padlock.
Gabriel didn't look for a key. He pulled his heavy pistol, aimed at the padlock, and fired a single point-blank shot. The lock shattered with a metallic ping.
Gabriel flipped the steel lid open.
Inside lay a thick blue leather notebook, a stack of original bank statements from a private vault in Zurich, and a micro-cassette audio tape labeled: VALENTI ASSASSINATION — OCTOBER 14.
Gabriel picked up the cassette tape, his hands steady, though his pulse raced like a hammer. October 14 was his birthday—and the exact date twenty-five years ago when his father had been gunned down in his own office.
Footsteps crunched against the gravel pathway behind him.
Gabriel turned around slowly, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the dark mist of the greenhouse.
Thomas Reed stood in the doorway, holding a silenced 9mm pistol aimed directly at Gabriel’s chest. His charcoal suit was soaked with rain, his dark-gray hair plastered to his forehead.
"You should have left the rosebush alone, Gabriel," Thomas said, his voice void of its usual professional warmth.
Gabriel didn't raise his gun. He stood tall, holding the steel box against his side, staring into the eyes of the man who had been his chief adviser for three decades.
"You killed my father twenty-five years ago," Gabriel stated, his deep voice ice-cold.
"Your father was weak!" Thomas spat back, his composure finally breaking into ugly, desperate rage. "He was going to hand fifty percent of our shipping territory over to the Morettis to buy peace! I saved this syndicate from collapse!"
"And Marcus?" Gabriel asked. "Did you kill my brother three years ago because he found out?"
"Marcus was a liability!" Thomas shouted over the sound of rain drumming against the glass ceiling. "He came back to Chicago looking for his father's old records! He was going to expose the Zurich accounts!"
Gabriel took one slow step forward, completely ignoring the gun pointed at his heart. "And the sniper tonight? You tried to shoot a three-year-old child in my house."
"I tried to shoot the ledger!" Thomas yelled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "If that child lives, she inherits the entire Valenti estate under the family charter! I worked thirty years for this empire, Gabriel! I won't let a housekeeper's bastard take what belongs to me!"
From behind a row of tall ferns near the entrance, a shadow moved silently.
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Bernadette Hayes stepped into the light, holding a heavy brass candlestick holder from the main dining room. Before Thomas could react, Bernadette swung the heavy brass object with all her strength, slamming it against the back of Thomas's head.
Thomas gasped, his weapon discharging into the dirt floor as he collapsed onto his knees, crashing face-first into the wet gravel.
