Chapter 4 - The Shadow at the Gate
The peace within the Russo estate was shattered three weeks later on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
Dominic was in his study conducting a secure satellite video conference with his syndicate lieutenants when Marcus, his chief of security, burst through the doors without knocking.
"Boss," Marcus said, his face grim. "We have a situation at the outer perimeter. A convoy of three armored sedans just stopped outside the main gate."
Dominic immediately stood up, his eyes turning cold and dangerous. "Who is it?"
"Marcus Vance," Marcus replied, pulling a tactical tablet from his belt. "And he brought Don Sal Moretti’s primary caporegime, Frank Scalise. They’re claiming they have a legal court order for the recovery of Vance’s minor children."
Dominic’s jaw set into iron. "Assemble the team. Nobody enters the courtyard."
Inside the guest suite, Serena had heard the sudden commotion—the heavy boots of armed guards running down the corridors, the sharp clicking of assault rifle bolts being chambered. She rushed to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the grand front gates, holding Rose and Lily tightly behind her skirts.
Through the heavy rain, she saw Marcus Vance standing outside the iron gates, flanked by six heavily armed men in dark overcoats. He looked furious, his sharp face twisted in arrogance as he brandished a sheaf of legal papers at the estate guards.
Below on the driveway, the front doors of the mansion swung open.
Dominic stepped out onto the marble porch, unbothered by the pouring rain. He was flanked by ten of his top tactical operatives, their weapons held at low ready. He walked down the stone steps with calm, lethal authority, stopping ten feet short of the iron gate.
"Russo!" Marcus Vance shouted through the bars, his voice thick with malicious triumph. "You're holding my wife and my daughters illegal! I have a judicial recovery order signed by Cook County Family Court! Open this damn gate and surrender my family, or I’ll have federal marshals level this palace!"
Dominic didn't look at the paper. He looked at Frank Scalise, the veteran Moretti captain standing beside Vance.
"Frank," Dominic said smoothly, his voice carrying clearly over the sound of the rain. "Does Don Moretti know you brought five carloads of cheap muscle onto my private estate to clear a gambling debt for a washed-up abuser?"
Scalise shifted his weight nervously, looking at the formidable line of Russo guards stationed along the perimeter walls. "Dominic, this is a domestic matter. Vance is a recognized associate of our family. His wife ran off with his kids. He has a legal order."
"That order was signed by Judge Edward Harrington," Dominic replied, pulling a sleek black smartphone from his pocket. "A judge who received a two-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit into his offshore account in the Caymans three days ago—courtesy of a Moretti dummy corporation."
Dominic pressed a button on his phone, playing a clear, high-definition audio recording through a loud Bluetooth speaker attached to the gate post.
"Make sure the paperwork looks legitimate," Marcus Vance’s voice echoed through the speaker, arrogant and clear. "Once I get the twins back from Russo’s place, Scalise has the buyer lined up in Dubai. We’ll net two million each, and Moretti wipes my ledger clean."
Frank Scalise’s face drained of all color. He turned sharply to look at Marcus Vance, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You idiot... you recorded that?"
"I didn't record it," Vance stammered, panic finally piercing his arrogant facade. "He's bluffing! It's a fake audio!"
"My cyber-intelligence team breached your encrypted server forty-eight hours ago, Vance," Dominic said, stepping up to the iron gate until he was inches from Vance’s terrified face. "I have every text message, every bank transfer, and every offshore account details detailing your attempt to sell your own blood."
Dominic turned his gaze back to Frank Scalise. "Take your men and get off my land, Frank. If Marcus Vance is still breathing on my driveway in sixty seconds, I will consider it an open act of war by the Moretti family against the Russo syndicate."
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Scalise didn't hesitate. He pulled his weapon, shoved Marcus Vance hard onto the muddy pavement, and signaled his men. "Retreat! Get in the cars!"
"Frank! No! You can't leave me!" Vance screamed, scrambling on his hands and knees in the mud as the three Moretti sedans executed frantic U-turns and sped away into the rain.
