Chapter 5 - The Desperate Ambush
Three weeks had passed since the downfall of the Vance family. Harlan and his mother had fled to a small rental property in the outer suburbs, their wealth completely stripped away. But Cordelia Vance refused to accept her defeat.
Sitting in a dimly lit VIP booth of an underground casino in the South Docks, Cordelia slammed her glass of vodka onto the table. Her eyes were bloodshot, her expensive red silk dress now wrinkled and stained. Standing before her was Marcus Maroni, the younger brother of the mafia don whom Royce Calloway had eliminated three years prior to consolidate his control over the city.
"The Calloway bastard destroyed my life, Marcus," Cordelia hissed, her voice twisted with a manic, unhinged rage. "He took my family’s money, my reputation, my engagement. And all for what? A pathetic, pregnant waitress from the slums!"
Marcus Maroni took a slow puff of his cigar, his dark eyes gleaming with a malicious calculation. "Royce Calloway is careful, Cordelia. His estate is a fortress. We can't touch him there. But my informants tell me the waitress has a medical appointment tomorrow afternoon at the St. Jude’s Women’s Clinic downtown. Royce’s security will be tight, but a public street is always vulnerable."
"I don't just want her scared, Marcus," Cordelia snarled, leaning across the table, her face contorted into a monstrous mask of jealousy. "I want that baby gone. I want her to feel what it’s like to lose everything, just like I did. If you eliminate her, I will give you the access codes to my family’s remaining offshore accounts in Switzerland. Three hundred million dollars."
Marcus smiled, a cruel, jagged expression. "For three hundred million, Miss Vance, I will turn that clinic into a slaughterhouse. Prepare the codes. By tomorrow evening, Royce Calloway will be mourning his little savior."
The next afternoon, the sun was shining brightly over the busy commercial district of downtown Boston. A sleek, armored Calloway SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the St. Jude’s Clinic. Silas and four heavily armed security guards emerged first, checking the perimeter with sharp, professional eyes.
Royce stepped out of the vehicle, reaching back to gently guide Della out. She wore a beautiful, loose-fitting green maternity dress, her hand resting comfortably over her large stomach. She looked healthy, the color having returned to her cheeks after weeks of rest.
"It’s just a routine checkup, Royce," Della smiled, looking at the massive security detail. "You don't need to look like you're invading a country."
"I don't take chances with my life, Della," Royce said softly, his arm sliding naturally around her waist to support her weight as they walked toward the glass doors.
Suddenly, a massive box truck tore through the red light at the intersection, its tires screeching violently as it veered directly toward the clinic's entrance.
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"Ambush!" Silas roared, drawing his weapon in a split second. "Get the boss inside! Move, move!"
The back doors of the box truck flew open, and six men in black tactical gear armed with automatic rifles emerged, immediately opening fire on the clinic entrance. The loud, deafening chatter of gunfire shattered the afternoon peace, sending pedestrians screaming in every direction as bullets chewed through the concrete walls and glass windows.
