Chapter 3 - The Guard at the Gate
The air inside the subterranean security room felt suffocating. Lined with dozens of glowing surveillance monitors, the room was usually Marcus Hale’s domain. Now, Marcus stood pressed against the concrete wall, two of Vincent’s most loyal enforcers holding his arms pinned behind his back.
Vincent stood three feet away, his beige suit jacket removed, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held the digital tablet in one hand and Michael’s silver watch in the other.
"Fifteen years, Marcus," Vincent said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You were my father’s right hand. When he died, you became mine. I trusted you with my life, my family, and this entire city."
"Vincent, listen to me!" Marcus growled, his jaw tight as he struggled against the guards. "I didn't steal a dime from you! That Swiss account was set up under your father’s orders before he passed!"
Vincent stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the older man. "My father died fourteen years ago. Michael supposedly died fifteen years ago. Who have you been sending four hundred thousand dollars a month to for the last decade?"
Marcus swallowed hard, sweat glistening on his forehead under the harsh fluorescent lights. "Don Salvatore knew Michael didn't die in that fire. The hit was an inside job planned by your own family to take Michael off the board before he could take control of the Chicago terminals. Your father couldn't stop it, so he paid to keep Michael hidden in Europe until the heat died down!"
"And Elena?" Vincent demanded. "What was her role?"
"Elena was the bridge!" Marcus confessed, his breathing heavy. "She was the only one Michael trusted. She handled the funds. But three weeks ago, Michael stopped taking the transfers. He came back to the States. He told Elena he was coming to claim the Caruso empire—and that he was taking his daughter back."
Vincent turned to look at the security monitor displaying the grand library upstairs. On the screen, little Clara sat quietly on the velvet couch, hugging her damaged stuffed rabbit.
"Clara is Michael's daughter," Vincent murmured, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.
"Yes!" Marcus barked. "And Elena realized too late that Michael has lost his mind. He doesn't just want the family business, Vincent. He believes you betrayed him fifteen years ago. He thinks you took his throne, his life, and his legacy."
Vincent leaned in close to Marcus’s ear. "If you knew all of this... why didn't you tell me when my nephews disappeared eight days ago?"
Marcus looked down, his discipline finally breaking. "Because Elena swore to me that hiding the boys was the only way to draw Michael out into the open without getting them killed. I was trying to protect those kids, Vincent!"
Vincent pulled back, his expression unreadable. "Check his personal vehicle," he commanded the enforcers. "Search his quarters. Put him in the holding cell downstairs until I verify every word."
"Vincent, wait!" Marcus shouted as the guards dragged him toward the reinforced door. "Check the perimeter logs from last night! Elena didn't leave alone! She had someone inside the house helping her!"
The heavy steel door slammed shut, leaving Vincent alone with the ambient hum of the monitors.
Vincent walked over to the primary console and pulled up the night-vision footage from the eastern perimeter gate recorded at 3:00 AM.
On the screen, a shadowy figure slipped through the side garden entrance. The person moved with military precision, bypassing the laser sensors with a security clearance master key.
The figure stopped right beneath the camera, briefly looking up into the lens.
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Vincent’s blood turned to ice.
The face captured in the infrared light belonged to Dr. Adrian Cole—the Caruso family’s private physician, who was currently upstairs in the medical wing alone with Luca and Nico.
