Chapter 7 - The Paper Trail
The weight of Emily’s accusation hung over the room like a heavy shroud.
Vanessa was hyperventilating now, clutching the edges of her designer gown with white-knuckled desperation.
“Adrian, please!” she sobbed, dropping to her knees on the marble floor.
The very floor where Maria had been kneeling just twenty minutes ago.
Now, the roles were violently reversed.
The queen had fallen into the dirt, and the maid stood tall beside the sovereign.
“I will give it all back!” Vanessa cried, crawling toward Adrian’s feet.
“Every single penny!”
“I will tell you where Donald Falcone keeps his safe houses!”
“I will testify against them in court!”
“Just don’t hurt me, Adrian!”
“Please, I beg you, remember that you loved me!”
Adrian looked down at her with cold, empty eyes.
There was no sorrow in his face.
There was no heartbreak.
There was only the chilling, absolute indifference of a judge who had already signed the warrant.
“I never loved you, Vanessa,” Adrian said, his voice slicing through her pathetic wailing.
“I tolerated you because our families shared commercial shipping contracts.”
“I gave you a home, an empire’s protection, and my family’s name.”
“And you paid me back by selling my blood to the men who murdered my cousins.”
Adrian reached down and grabbed Vanessa’s left wrist.
His grip was like a vise of solid steel.
Vanessa let out a sharp cry of pain, but Adrian didn't flinch.
With his other hand, he gripped the ten-carat diamond engagement ring on her finger.
With one sharp, deliberate pull, he ripped the ring from her flesh.
A small line of red blood welled up around her stripped knuckle.
Adrian held the massive diamond up to the chandelier light for a single second.
Then, without a word, he opened his fingers and let the three-hundred-thousand-dollar ring drop into the puddle of cold, spilled coffee on the floor.
It landed with a dull splash, completely submerged in the filth.
“Marco,” Adrian commanded.
“Boss.”
“Send three strike teams to the South Side warehouse immediately.”
“Set an ambush at the perimeter fence.”
“When Falcone’s men arrive with Miss Sterling’s access codes, do not let a single one of them leave the property alive.”
Marco tapped his earpiece, his voice calm and lethal.
“Understood. Teams Alpha and Charlie are already moving.”
Adrian then turned back to the thirty guests who were still frozen in their seats.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Adrian announced, his voice booming with authority.
“I apologize for the disruption to our evening’s entertainment.”
“It appears my fiancée’s charity foundation has concluded its operations permanently.”
“My accounting staff will be contacting each of your offices by eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Every single dollar you donated to the Sterling Hope Foundation will be audited.”
“If your money was legitimate, it will be refunded with full interest.”
“If your money was part of Donald Falcone’s laundering scheme...”
Adrian let the sentence hang in the air.
The threat was unmistakable.
Three men at the end of the table swallowed hard, their faces turning completely green.
“Now,” Adrian said, turning his gaze back to Vanessa, who was shivering violently on the floor.
“Security.”
Four large men in tactical gear stepped forward from the shadows of the ballroom.
“Take Miss Sterling to the lower holding suites,” Adrian ordered calmly.
“Confiscate her passport, her jewelry, and every electronic device in her possession.”
“When the Falcone situation is resolved at midnight, we will discuss her permanent relocation.”
Vanessa began to scream—a high-pitched, feral sound of pure, unadulterated madness.
She kicked and clawed as two massive security guards hauled her to her feet by her elbows.
“You can't do this to me!” she shrieked, her designer shoes dragging along the marble.
“My father is a senator!”
“My family has power!”
“Adrian Moretti, you will burn in hell for this!”
Her screams grew fainter and fainter as the heavy doors of the West Wing slammed shut behind her.
May you like
The grand dining hall was silent once again.
All that remained of Vanessa Sterling was the crushed white silk rose and the diamond ring resting in the puddle of spilled coffee.
