Chapter 12 - The Devil's Debt
I walked back into the opulent villa, my bare feet completely silent against the cool marble floors.
Alessandro was pouring two glasses of expensive red wine in the kitchen, completely unaware of the approaching storm.
He turned around with that devastatingly handsome smile, offering me a crystal glass.
I ignored the wine and slapped him across the face with every single ounce of strength I possessed.
The sharp sound echoed through the quiet house, leaving a bright red mark across his jawline.
He did not flinch, nor did he raise his voice or attempt to defend himself against the sudden violence.
He simply looked down at my left hand, immediately noticing that the new diamond ring was missing.
I told him that I had just spoken to my dead father, and I knew everything about his deal with the Bratva.
Alessandro closed his eyes, a look of immense, heavy defeat washing over his bruised features.
He confessed that Ruggero’s stolen billions were completely erased by my computer virus back in Chicago.
Without that money, the Italian commission demanded immediate execution for Alessandro, Elena, and me.
The only people wealthy and powerful enough to buy off the entire commission in one night were the Russians.
Alessandro had surrendered absolute control of the Romano empire's shipping ports to the Bratva in exchange for our lives.
He swore that he never intended to drag me back into the life, and he thought we were finally safe in Sicily.
I demanded to know why the ring he gave me bore the hidden crest of the Russian Syndicate.
He explained that the Tsar, the ruthless head of the Bratva, demanded a permanent tracker on me as insurance.
The Tsar knew about my skills with the microchip, and he considered me a highly valuable asset to his organization.
I asked him how my father was involved in this international nightmare, my voice shaking with unshed tears.
Alessandro looked at me with deep sorrow and revealed a secret that shattered my entire reality.
My father was never just a humble Chicago jeweler restoring antiques for local mobsters.
He had been the world's greatest master counterfeiter, forging flawless diamonds and untraceable bonds for the Bratva.
When my father tried to walk away from the syndicate five years ago, the Russians faked his death and took him captive.
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Alessandro had only discovered this truth yesterday when the Tsar used my father as leverage to enforce a new mission.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany front doors of our secure villa exploded inward with a deafening crash.
