Chapter 88 The Final Debt

Chapter 88 The Final Debt
Dorian Vane stood on the asphalt in the private airfield with the wind whipping his hair across his face. He was sweating despite the cold air. Two heavy suitcases sat at his feet, packed with millions of dollars in cash. His ticket out. His way to disappear.
"Hurry up!" Dorian hissed at the pilot. "Load the bags! We need to move now!"
"We’re moving as fast as we can, sir," the pilot replied, but he looked nervous.
Suddenly, the night exploded with light as beams from four black SUVs hit Dorian directly in the eyes. He shielded his face with his hand, his heart leaping into his throat. The sound of tires screeching on concrete filled the air.
Vincent Harrington stepped out of the lead vehicle as his men fanned out, their rifles aimed at Dorian’s chest.
"Going somewhere, Dorian?" Vincent asked. His voice was like a low growl.
Dorian looked at the guns, then at the suitcases at his feet, forcing a shaky smile. "Vincent. Let’s be reasonable. There is ten million dollars in those bags. You can take it. Take it all and let me get on that plane. You can tell everyone I vanished."
Vincent didn't even look at the money. He walked right up to Dorian and punched him hard in the jaw. Dorian hit the ground, his lip splitting open.
"You think money fixes this?" Vincent thundered, standing over him. "You tried to destroy a family. You have blood on your hands. You don't get to fly away."
Vincent pulled out his phone and made one call. "He’s here. Bring the Don."
Two hours later, the airfield felt like a courtroom as Don Vittorio arrived with his elders. Dorian was forced to sit on a crate. Lorenzo was brought out from a van in chains. When Lorenzo saw Dorian, his eyes went wide as he finally realized that the game was over.

"Dorian Vane," the Don said, his voice deep. "You have broken every code we have. You conspired with a traitor to steal an empire. You murdered an innocent man."
"I want a lawyer!" Lorenzo screamed, rattling his chains. "I have rights! You can't just do this!"
Vincent stepped forward and kicked the back of Lorenzo’s knees, forcing him to the ground. "You had rights until you murdered an innocent woman, Lorenzo. You had rights until you broke Isabella’s heart. Now, you just have a debt."
Don Vittorio stood up. The air seemed to get colder. "By the laws of our world, I find you both guilty. The sentence is death. Immediate and final."
Lorenzo began to howl, begging for mercy. He cried about his child, not knowing that Bianca and the baby were already gone. Dorian remained silent. He just stared at the ground with empty eyes.
A line of men stepped forward with rifles, standing ten feet away.
"Any last words?" Don Vittorio asked.
Dorian said nothing. Lorenzo looked up and spat at Vincent. "I hope you all rot in hell!"
"Aim," Don Vittorio commanded.
The sound of the rifles clicking was loud in the silence of the airfield.
"Fire!"
A single roar filled the night. Both men slumped forward onto the concrete. The blood began to spread, staining the gray asphalt. The doctor walked over, checked their pulses, and nodded.
"It is done," Vincent said as he pulled out his phone and called Luca. "They are gone, Luca. Justice is served."

The sun was rising when Alexander was finally discharged from the hospital. He walked slowly, leaning on Valeria’s arm, looking pale, his ribs taped tight.

Valeria drove him straight to the Damiano estate. The moment the car pulled into the driveway, the front doors flew open, and Isabella ran down the steps, throwing herself into Alexander’s arms.
"Ouch," Alexander groaned, but he laughed through the pain, holding her tight and burying his face in her hair. "Don't you ever leave me again," Isabella sobbed into his chest. "I’ll kill you myself if you disappear again!"
"I’m not going anywhere," he whispered.
A maid stepped out onto the porch. "Master Alexander? Mr. Salvatore wishes to see you privately, in his room."
Isabella gripped Alexander’s hand. "I’m coming with you."
"No, Bella," Alexander said softly. "Let me go. I need to talk to him."
Alexander walked up the stairs to Salvatore’s bedroom. The room was dim and smelled of medicine. Salvatore was propped up on pillows, looking very thin.
"Sit," Salvatore rasped.
Alexander sat in the chair by the bed. "Sir."
"I was a fool," Salvatore began. He didn't look away. "I treated you badly, but you protected my daughter when I couldn't. You almost died for her."
Salvatore reached out his shaky hand and placed it on Alexander’s arm. "I am dying, Alexander. I want to know my daughter is loved. I give you my blessing. I want you to marry her. You are a son to me now."
Alexander’s throat felt tight. "Thank you, sir. I love her more than anything."
Salvatore nodded. "Call them in. Call Luca and Valeria."
When they entered, Salvatore took Luca’s hand and Valeria’s hand. He joined them together. "Valeria, you saved us. You saw what I missed. Luca, you have become the man I wanted you to be. I bless your union."
He looked at all four of them. His children. His family.
"I have one last wish," Salvatore whispered, his voice getting weaker. "I don't have months or weeks. I want to see you all happy. I want a double wedding, right here. Within the week. I want to see it before I go."
Isabella burst into tears and knelt by the bed. "We will do it, Papa. We promise."

The estate changed overnight. The dark shadows of Lorenzo and Bianca were scrubbed away as trucks arrived with thousands of white roses and lilies. Vincent Harrington stayed to help, using his men to secure the grounds and organize the logistics.

There was a beautiful energy in the house. Tailors were rushing through the halls with white fabric. Chefs were busy in the kitchen. In the middle of it all, Luca and Alexander sat on the terrace, sharing a drink.
"I never thought we’d be brothers-in-law," Luca said, leaning back.
"I never thought I’d be alive to see it," Alexander replied.
They looked back at the house. They could see Isabella and Valeria through the window, laughing as they looked at the flower arrangements. For the first time in a long time, there was no fear.
But as the sun began to set, Luca looked toward his father’s window. "We have to move fast," he whispered. "We are running out of time."