Chapter 27 - The Confrontation at the Glass Pier
The wind off Lake Michigan screamed like a dying animal as Dante climbed the icy stone steps of the old pump station at the edge of the Lake Forest bluff. The abandoned brick structure, crowned with a rusted iron walkway that jutted out over the churning black water, was enveloped in blinding sleet.
Standing on the edge of the walkway, framed by the raging storm, was Julianna Vance.
She was wrapped in an immaculate white cashmere coat, her dark hair whipped by the gale, completely unfazed by the sub-zero temperatures. In her arms, strapped into a high-end baby carrier, was the sleeping infant, Alexander.
Dante stepped onto the iron grating, his heavy boots crunching against the ice. His hand rested inside his coat, fingers curled tightly around the grip of his pistol.
"You're late, Dante," Julianna smiled, her lips painted a blood-red that stood out starkly against the pale canvas of the blizzard. "Though I suppose I can forgive you, considering you just became a father for the second and third time."
"Cut the theatrics, Julianna," Dante said, his voice cutting through the wind like a serrated blade. "The state deputies aren't with you. You bluffed."
"Did I?" She arched an eyebrow, tilting her head toward the road below.
Through the trees, the flashing red and blue lights of three squad cars were visible, idling at the entrance of the clinic’s private drive.
"They have the order, Dante. Judge Miller signed it with a gold pen my father gave him ten years ago. They’re waiting for my call. One word from me, and they smash through the clinic doors, take those screaming twins, and place them into an undisclosed state facility where Lena will never see them again."
Dante took a step forward, his eyes burning with lethal fury. "What do you want, Julianna? You have the money. You have the offshore accounts Eleanor funneled to you in Zurich. Why come back from the dead?"
Julianna’s smile vanished, replaced by a bitter, venomous sneer that distorted her elegant features.
"Money?" she hissed, stepping closer to the edge, the black waves of Lake Michigan crashing against the rocks eighty feet below. "You think this was about money? I was supposed to be a Moretti, Dante! I spent my entire youth being groomed to stand by your side! My family poured millions into your rise! And then you threw me away for an orphan? For an interior decorator who worked for hourly wages?!"
"Lena is ten times the woman you will ever be," Dante said coldly.
Julianna laughed—a sharp, hysterical sound that was whipped away by the wind. "And yet, look who holds your blood! Look at Alexander, Dante! Look at him!"
She pulled back the cashmere blanket, revealing the baby's sleeping face.
"He is your flesh. He is your heir. Under your family's ancient charter, he supersedes anything Lena squeezes out on that hospital bed. I own your legacy, Dante. And I am going to make you suffer for every second you left me in that exile."
"Then shoot me," Dante challenged, opening his coat, exposing his chest to her. "If you want my life, take it. But let Lena and the twins go. Sign the release, and I will hand over every asset in the Moretti portfolio to this child."
Julianna looked at him, her eyes glittering with mad triumph.
"Oh, Dante," she purred, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a silver detonator with a glowing red LED. "You still think this is about a legal battle? You think Eleanor planned this to give me the empire?"
Dante froze. His eyes locked onto the detonator.
"What is that?" Dante asked, his voice suddenly hollow.
"Eleanor never intended for anyone to survive," Julianna whispered, a terrifying ecstasy washing over her face. "Not me. Not you. And certainly not Lena. My father Harrison died an hour ago in his holding cell, Dante. Poisoned by Eleanor’s network. She’s burning the entire board down from the inside."
Julianna leaned in close, her breath warm against Dante's frozen cheek.
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"The clinic isn't being raided by state deputies, Dante. Those squad cars? They aren't real police. They are Eleanor’s mercenaries in stolen uniforms. And under the floorboards of that surgical suite where your sweet Lena is nursing your twins... there are fifty pounds of military-grade C4."
***
