Chapter 7 - The Cold Digital Hammer
A cold, humorless smirk touched the corner of Dante Moretti’s lips, though his dark eyes remained utterly dead.
“A senile old woman?” Dante repeated, the words dripping with lethal sarcasm.
“You are talking about the matriarch who built this empire alongside my father before your parents even met in high school.”
He reached into the right pocket of his tailored black trousers, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
Victoria watched his hand with widening eyes, half-expecting him to pull out a silenced pistol to end the dispute instantly.
Instead, Dante produced his sleek, black encrypted smartphone, the high-resolution glass catching the amber glow from above.
He held the device lightly in his palm, his thumb resting over a single icon on the customized security interface.
“You thought you were clever, Victoria,” Dante murmured, taking a slow half-step to his left toward the wall.
“You spent six months learning the schedules of the groundskeepers, the delivery vans, and my private security details.”
“You knew exactly which blind spots existed along the western terrace and the service pantry near the kitchen.”
Victoria’s eyes darted toward the phone, a fresh wave of nausea rising from the pit of her stomach.
“What did you do?” she breathed, her voice barely louder than the rustle of the legal papers scattered across the floor.
“I upgraded the system three days after I put that diamond ring on your treacherous finger,” Dante answered coldly.
“Every major room in this house is wired with military-grade, low-light optical lenses integrated directly into the molding.”
He raised his thumb and tapped the screen once, sending an encrypted command directly to the central hub.
Beside the sweeping mahogany staircase, mounted flush against the marble wall, an eighty-five-inch high-definition monitor hummed to life.
The deep black glass illuminated with a soft click, shedding a cool, electric-blue glow across the warm amber foyer.
The Moretti family crest faded from the display, replaced instantly by a pristine four-panel surveillance interface.
The top-left feed showed the grand entrance hall from an elevated, panoramic angle that captured every square inch of the space.
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The timestamp displayed at the bottom of the screen read exactly five-forty-two in the evening—less than one hour ago.
Victoria’s jaw went slack as she recognized her own golden-yellow gown moving across the screen in crystal-clear definition.
