Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Elara’s POV.

The front gates groaned open at midnight.

I watched from the balcony as a fleet of black SUVs rolled up the drive.

"Who is that?" I whispered to myself.

"The audit," Lorenzo’s voice came from behind.  "Marcus Vasquez. If the Syndicate is a machine, Marcus is the man who oils the gears when they grind. He’s the mediator. If he’s here, it means the board of directors thinks Dante and Isabella are failing."

"Is he dangerous?"

"He doesn't carry a gun, Elara. He carries a ledger and, that’s much worse."

The next morning, the atmosphere in the dining hall was suffocating. Dante sat at the head of the table, Isabella was back, though she sat as far from Dante as possible, her face an expression of pure fury.

Then, Marcus Vasquez walked in.

He wasn't what I expected. He was younger than Dante, perhaps late twenties, wearing a tailored cream suit.

"Dante," Marcus said, his voice smooth. "It’s been too long."

"Marcus," Dante replied, "I wasn't expecting an audit until next quarter."

"Well, when a warehouse blows up and a Rossi daughter starts throwing around accusations of treason, the board gets nervous about their return on investment."

Marcus pulled out a chair, not for himself, but for me.

He looked at me. "And you must be the famous Elara. The woman at the center of the storm."

"I am," I said, keeping my voice steady.

Marcus took my hand and kissed the knuckles. He lingered a second too long, his eyes never leaving mine. "Enchanting. I see why Dante broke all the rules for you. Intelligence in the eyes, steel in the spine. A rare find in the gutters of New York."

"Sit down, Marcus," Dante growled. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Marcus chuckled, finally releasing my hand and taking the seat next to me. "So, let’s talk about the alliance. Isabella, you look... stressed. Is the Rossi family struggling to keep their end of the bargain?"

"The Rossis are fine," Isabella snapped.

"The problem is the girl. She’s a parasite."

Marcus leaned back, tapping a gold pen against his chin. "Is she? Because according to the files I’ve seen, she’s the only one who has actually fulfilled a requirement of the contract. She produced an heir. Or she tried to, before your 'security malfunction' at the warehouse."

Isabella’s face turned white. "That was the Petrovs."

"Was it?" Marcus asked. "I’ll be the judge of that. I’m here to audit the accounts, the shipping manifests, and... the bloodlines."

He turned back to me, ignoring the daggers Isabella was staring at him. "Tell me, Elara. Do you enjoy life here? Or do you find the Moretti hospitality a bit... restrictive?"

"I have everything I need," I said.

"A loyal answer," Marcus said. He reached over and picked up a piece of fruit from my plate, slicing it with a small silver knife.

"But loyalty is for a price, isn't it? And prices fluctuate. For instance, if the Rossi alliance were to be dissolved due to... let’s say, gross negligence or internal betrayal... Dante would need a new partner."

Dante slammed his hand onto the table. "Enough, Marcus. You’re here to check the books, not flirt with my wife."

"Flirting? Heavens, no," Marcus said, popping the slice of fruit into his mouth. "I’m evaluating assets. And right now, Dante, your wife is your only high-performing asset. Isabella is a liability. The docks are in chaos. The Petrovs are breathing down your neck. If I were the board, I’d be wondering why the Rossis are still getting a cut."

Isabella stood up, her chair screeching. "You have no right to come into this house and—"

"I have every right," Marcus interrupted, his voice turning into a whip. "I represent the money. And the money is unhappy. Now, be a good girl and go find me the Q3 manifests. I’ll be busy getting to know the mistress of the house."

Isabella looked at Dante for support, but Dante was looking at Marcus with murder in his eyes. Isabella turned and left the room.

An hour later, I was in the conservatory, trying to clear my head.

"It’s a beautiful cage, isn't it?"

I spun around. Marcus was leaning against a marble pillar, a glass of sparkling water in his hand.

"You shouldn't be here," I said. "Dante will kill you."

"Dante is currently in the library trying to explain why five million dollars is missing from the Singapore accounts," Marcus said, stepping closer. "He’s a bit occupied."

"Singapore?" My heart skipped a beat.

Lorenzo had moved the money.

Marcus smiled. "Don't worry. I haven't told him yet. I like to see how people react under pressure. It tells me who is worth investing in."

He walked a slow circle around me, inspecting me like a piece of art. "You’re very good, Elara. The scared wife, the obedient vessel. But there's a reason I hold the position I'm in right now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do." Marcus stopped in front of me. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I froze.

"Dante thinks the baby is the prize. Isabella thinks the name is the prize. But they’re both wrong."

"Then what is the prize?"

"You," Marcus whispered. "You are the real bargaining chip here. You’re a medical genius with a front-row seat to the most powerful syndicate on the East Coast. You know where the bodies are buried. You probably know the bank codes by now. If you were to, say, find yourself in need of a mediator who could move you to a place where Dante could never find you... I might be interested in a trade."

"And what would you want in return?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Everything you have on them," Marcus said. "I don't care about the bloodline or the data. The Morettis are old world. I want to build something new, and you’re the most valuable piece of information in this building."

Before I could answer, the glass door of the conservatory shattered.

Dante was there, his face crimson, his chest heaving. He lunged at Marcus, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the stone wall.

"Touch her again," Dante roared, "and I will tear your heart out with my bare hands."

Marcus didn't fight back. He just laughed, even as his face turned purple. "You’re... losing it... Dante. The board... won't like... a madman... in charge."

Dante threw him to the ground. Marcus coughed, smoothing his cream suit as if nothing had happened. He looked at me and winked.

"Evaluation complete," Marcus croaked. He looked at Dante. "You’re compromised. You’re so obsessed with your 'asset' that you’ve stopped watching the gates. I’ll be in the guest wing if you want to discuss the Singapore discrepancies."

Dante turned to me. He looked wild, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected enemies to jump from the plants.

"What did he say to you?" Dante demanded, grabbing my wrists. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing, Dante," I said, trying to pull away. "He was just talking about the house."

"He was touching you!" Dante screamed. He let go of my wrists and smashed a pot of orchids, the ceramic shards flying everywhere. "Everyone is trying to take what's mine! Isabella! The Petrovs! Now Marcus!"

He stepped toward me, his shadow looming over me. "You aren't going anywhere, Elara. I’m locking this wing down. No Lorenzo. No Marcus. No one but me."

"Dante, you're scaring me," I said, backing away.

"Good!" he yelled. "Maybe if you're scared, you'll stay put! You’re the only thing I have left that's pure!"

He turned and stormed out, shouting for the guards to double the rotation.

I stood in the middle of the broken orchids, my heart racing.

I needed to find Lorenzo.

Fast.