Chapter 8 - Secret Investigations Reveal Shocking Offshore Bank Transfers
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the private study burst inward with a deafening crash of splintering wood.
Three elite syndicate enforcers rushed into the room, their assault rifles raised and locked directly onto Marcus’s head.
“Drop the weapon, Marcus, or we turn you into Swiss cheese right here on the carpet,” Vincent ordered coldly.
Marcus realized he was entirely outmatched, his pistol slipping from his trembling fingers to clatter against the floor.
He kicked the gun away himself, raising his hands slowly into the air while backing up against the mahogany bookshelf.
“You’re making a catastrophic mistake, Moretti! The council will tear this entire organization apart without me!” Marcus yelled.
“The council already reviewed your offshore bank accounts in Zurich, Marcus. We found every single wire transfer from Volkov,” Adrian said.
Adrian wheeled himself forward, his face an unreadable mask of cold, calculated fury forged in the fires of absolute betrayal.
“You traded my wife and my daughter for a seat at a Russian butcher’s table,” Adrian stated with chilling calm.
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“Take him down to the basement vault and lock him in the steel holding cell,” Adrian commanded without looking back.
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