Chapter 7 - The Nanny's Ultimatum
The room fell completely silent, save for the terrifying hiss of the thermal drill cutting through the main doors.
"Drop your weapons, Adrien, or your daughter dies right now," Sarah commanded with absolute, chilling calm.
My heart stopped, and every protective instinct in my body screamed to tear her apart.
But the sharp ceramic blade was pressed tight against Nora's fragile, soft skin.
"Sarah, do not do this," I pleaded, my voice remarkably steady despite the terror consuming my soul.
"Carlo promised me five million dollars and safe passage to Europe," she replied coldly.
"I can give you ten million right now, in untraceable bearer bonds," I countered desperately.
"Carlo told me you would say that, but he also said dead men cannot pay their debts," Sarah sneered.
Marco stood frozen beside me, knowing any sudden movement would cost my daughter her life.
Elena, crouching near the bed with Sophie, slowly moved her hand toward a heavy bronze lamp on the nightstand.
I needed to keep Sarah's attention entirely focused on me.
"You think Carlo will let you live after you outlive your usefulness?" I asked, stepping one inch closer.
"He promised me!" Sarah yelled, her hand trembling slightly as she pressed the knife harder.
In that microscopic moment of distraction, Elena threw the heavy bronze lamp with all her strength.
The lamp struck Sarah directly in the back of the knees, causing her legs to buckle instantly.
As Sarah stumbled downward, Marco fired a single, silenced shot that shattered the ceramic knife in her hand.
I lunged forward, catching Nora in mid-air before Sarah even hit the carpet.
I spun around, shielding my crying daughter with my own body.
Marco stepped over the screaming nanny and delivered a swift kick to her head, knocking her unconscious.
I handed Nora safely to Elena, my hands shaking with overwhelming relief.
Before we could take another breath, the thermal drill finally finished its destructive work.
The heavy bedroom doors were blown violently off their hinges by a concussive charge.
Smoke poured into the master suite, and a tall silhouette stepped through the ruined doorway.
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As the smoke cleared, I aimed my gun at the intruder, but my finger froze on the trigger.
Standing in my bedroom, holding a suppressed pistol, was my older brother, Dante.
