Chapter 6 - The Steel Grip
The room fell dead silent. The two senior captains standing behind Richard froze, their hands hovering nervously near their coats.
Marco stepped between the captains, his weapon drawn in a smooth, practiced motion, pointing it calmly at their chests. "Don't even think about it."
Vincent leaned in close to Richard’s trembling face, his massive grip on the associate's collar unyielding. The faint scars on Vincent’s left cheek stood out starkly against his pale, furious skin.
"You speak to my grandniece like that again, Richard," Vincent growled in a low, terrifying whisper that sent an electric chill through the room, "and I will personally ensure you never speak again."
Richard gasped for air, his gold watch catching the morning light as his hands clawed at Vincent’s grip. "Vincent... listen to me... she's lying to you... her mother ran away with the family money thirty years ago!"
"My sister didn't run away," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a register of absolute, icy certainty. "Your father had her kidnapped. And you spent thirty years stealing her daughter's inheritance."
Vincent reached into his coat pocket with his free hand, pulled out a thick white folder, and slapped it against Richard’s chest.
"These are the unredacted offshore bank records from Zurich," Vincent revealed. "Every dollar you stole from my sister's trust has been traced back to your private shell accounts."
Richard’s face drained of all color. His eyes darted toward the door, realizing in an instant that his twenty-year empire of theft had completely collapsed.
Vincent released his grip, letting Richard stumble backward against the wall, coughing heavily.
"Marco," Vincent commanded softly. "Lock Richard in the east wing holding room. Strip him of all security clearances. Nobody speaks to him until the federal prosecutors arrive."
"Federal prosecutors?" Richard shrieked, his voice cracking with sheer panic. "You're turning me over to the feds? You're a Mafia boss!"
"I am a father, Richard," Vincent replied coldly, turning his back on the traitor. "And I am protecting my family."
As Marco and two guards dragged Richard Vale out of the study, his frantic screams faded down the marble corridor.
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Rachel walked up beside Vincent, placing her small hand gently over his broad arm. "Thank you, Uncle Vincent."
Vincent looked down at her, a rare, breathtaking smile touching his rugged face. He reached out and gently stroked Emma’s dark ponytail, pulling both mother and child into a warm, protective embrace.
