Chapter 7 - The Interception
The echoing silence of the concrete parking garage was broken only by the hum of the portable incubator.
Dante walked slowly toward them, his dark coat sweeping against his legs.
Five armed men stepped out of the vehicles behind him, raising their weapons.
Michael pushed Lucia’s wheelchair behind his own body, drawing his gun and aiming it directly at Dante’s chest.
“Take one more step, and I put a bullet through your heart, boss,” Michael warned.
Dante stopped ten feet away.
He didn't even look at Michael.
His eyes were locked entirely on Lucia.
“You called your father,” Dante said, his voice dangerously calm.
“His men just torched three of my shipping warehouses.”
“You started a war over a misunderstanding.”
Lucia laughed, the sound raw and painful as it pulled at her fresh stitches.
“A misunderstanding?”
“You left me bleeding on a table because Vivian called you.”
“Then you drained my accounts, tried to declare me insane, and sent a nurse to poison our daughter.”
Dante’s calm expression fractured.
A look of genuine, terrifying confusion crossed his face.
“Poison our daughter?” Dante repeated, his voice dropping an octave.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The dead nurse upstairs,” Michael interjected coldly.
“She tried to push cyanide into the baby's IV.”
“She said you sent your regards right before she bit a suicide pill.”
Dante lowered his gun, his eyes widening in shock.
He turned his head slightly, staring off into the dark corners of the garage as the pieces clicked together in his mind.
“Vivian,” Dante whispered.
“I didn't authorize a hit on my own child.”
“Vivian told me you were trying to steal the company ledgers while I was at the hospital.”
“She told me you were planning to hand the accounts over to your father.”
Lucia stared at him, realizing the absolute magnitude of Vivian’s manipulation.
Vivian had played both of them perfectly.
“She orchestrated the coup, Dante,” Lucia said.
“And you were stupid enough to hand her the keys to your empire because she warmed your bed.”
Dante’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.
He looked at the incubator, his expression softening for a fraction of a second.
“I will kill her,” Dante vowed.
“But right now, you need to get in the car with me.”
“It’s not safe out here.”
“I will never go anywhere with you again,” Lucia spat.
She reached into her hospital gown pocket and threw his gold wedding ring onto the concrete floor.
It bounced loudly, rolling to a stop right at his expensive leather shoes.
Before Dante could speak, a massive wail of police sirens flooded the parking garage.
A dozen Chicago Police cruisers swarmed down the entrance ramp, lights flashing brilliantly in the dark.
Vivian Ross stepped out of the lead cruiser, flanked by a police captain.
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“Arrest her,” Vivian ordered, pointing a manicured finger at Lucia.
“She just kidnapped the Moretti heir, and she embezzled forty million dollars from our corporate accounts.”
