Chapter 8 - The Syndicate's Shadow
The horrifying truth hung in the freezing air of the ruined dining room.
Patricia Morgan, a woman obsessed with high society and social standing, had deliberately funded a mafia assassination.
"She paid them to kill you?" Isabelle whispered, her mind struggling to process the sheer scale of her stepmother's betrayal.
"With your own money?"
Victor nodded grimly, holstering his weapon with practiced efficiency.
"It is the only logical explanation."
"The Moretti family has been desperate to expand their territory into my shipping ports for years."
"Patricia gave them the financial backing they needed to finally make a move, and in return, they promised to eliminate her biggest threat."
He turned to his security chief, who was busy directing heavily armed men to secure the estate's perimeter.
"We need to move immediately," Victor ordered.
"This location is compromised."
"If the Morettis know about this safehouse, they will send a small army next time."
"Get the armored transport ready."
Victor grabbed Isabelle's hand and led her quickly toward the private garage beneath the compound.
"Where are we going?" Isabelle asked, struggling to keep up with his long, determined strides.
"We are going back to Manhattan," Victor answered smoothly.
"To the one place Patricia and the Morettis will never expect us to go."
They climbed into the back of a heavily reinforced, windowless tactical vehicle.
Two elite guards sat up front, heavily armed and completely silent.
The transport roared out of the hidden garage, tearing down the snow-covered driveway and vanishing into the night.
Isabelle sat across from Victor in the dim, red emergency lighting of the cabin.
"You said we need to flip the narrative," Isabelle reminded him quietly.
"But if Patricia is working with a rival crime family, announcing an engagement won't stop them from trying to kill us."
Victor leaned back against the leather seat, a cold, predatory smile forming on his lips.
"You are absolutely correct, Isabelle."
"An engagement will not stop the Morettis."
"But it will give me the legal authority to completely seize Patricia's assets."
"Once I freeze the accounts she used to pay them, the Morettis will instantly turn on her."
"They do not work for free, and they certainly do not protect women who bounce checks."
Isabelle felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
She was watching Victor Romano operate exactly how the terrifying rumors claimed he did.
He was ruthless, calculating, and ten steps ahead of his enemies.
"You are going to let them destroy her," Isabelle realized softly.
Victor looked at her, his expression entirely devoid of mercy.
"Patricia Morgan invited a war into her home."
"I am simply going to let her experience the devastating consequences of that invitation."
The heavy transport vehicle finally slowed, pulling into a dark, abandoned underground parking garage in the heart of the city.
Victor led her up a hidden service elevator that bypassed the lobby entirely.
The doors opened into a sprawling, immaculate penthouse overlooking the glittering skyline.
"This is my private residence," Victor explained, locking the heavy steel doors behind them.
"Only my most trusted men know it exists."
He walked over to a massive mahogany desk and pulled open a hidden drawer.
He removed a thick stack of legal documents and a sleek black pen.
"I need you to sign these, Isabelle."
Isabelle walked over and looked at the paperwork.
It was a legally binding marriage license, already filled out and notarized by a corrupt judge on Victor's payroll.
"An engagement takes too much time," Victor stated flatly.
"We need to be legally married tonight if I am going to seize control of your family's estate by morning."
Isabelle picked up the heavy pen, her hand trembling slightly.
She was about to bind herself completely to the most dangerous man in New York.
Before the pen touched the paper, Victor's encrypted secure phone began to vibrate violently on the desk.
Victor answered it on speakerphone.
The voice that echoed through the penthouse did not belong to his security chief.
It was the cold, mocking voice of Patricia Morgan.
May you like
"Hello, Victor," Patricia said smoothly.
"I have something that belongs to you."
