Chapter 3 - THE MASTERMIND'S PRICE
"Stay away from them!" Sophia shouted, stepping forward to shield both young girls with her body, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
Victor Rossini chuckled, adjusting his silk tie with his free hand. Two heavily armed mercenaries stepped out from the shadows behind him, their assault rifles raised.
"Do you really think Lorenzo Moretti can save you, girl?" Victor asked, taking a slow, measured step closer. "He is currently trapped in his own chapel, surrounded by thirty of my best tactical operatives. By the time he clears the main courtyard—if he survives at all—you and these children will be on a private jet heading toward international waters."
"Lorenzo knows about the shipping routes!" Sophia spat, trying to buy time, her eyes frantically searching the dark wine cellar for anything she could use as a weapon. "We found the bronze key! We unlocked the vault! He has your ledgers, Victor! He knows about the Marseille human trafficking ring!"
Victor’s cold smile twitched for a microsecond, a flash of genuine rage cracking his polite facade.
"The bronze key..." Victor muttered, his jaw tightening. "Valentina was a fool to leave it in the estate safe. But it doesn't matter now. Those ledgers mean nothing without the living witnesses to testify in front of the Syndicate Council."
He looked at eight-year-old Mia, then turned his icy gaze toward six-year-old Lily.
"Lorenzo loves his daughter more than his own life," Victor whispered softly. "And ironically, he seems to have developed quite an affection for you and your little girl in the short time you’ve worked here. Having both children in my possession guarantees that Lorenzo will surrender every asset, every port, and every territory he owns in New York without firing another shot."
"You monster," Sophia gasped, tears of rage blinding her vision. "They're just children!"
"They are leverage," Victor corrected coldly. He nodded to his two mercenaries. "Secure the children. If the maid moves, put a bullet through her leg."
The two mercenaries stepped forward.
"NO!" Sophia screamed.
Driven by pure, frantic desperation, Sophia grabbed a heavy, ninety-year-old glass wine bottle from a metal rack beside her and smashed it against the brick pillar, creating a jagged, lethal glass blade. She lunged forward, brandishing the broken bottle with terrifying ferocity.
"Touch my daughter and I swear to God I'll cut your throat!" she roared.
The first mercenary paused in surprise, amused by the housekeeper’s defiance. But before he could step forward to disarm her, a thunderous explosion blew the reinforced steel entrance door of the wine cellar off its hinges.
The heavy steel door flew across the room, crushing the second mercenary against the brick wall.
Through the cloud of dust and fire, a figure emerged like an vengeful demon from the underworld.
It was Lorenzo.
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His suit jacket was gone, his crisp white shirt stained with blood and gunpowder, his eyes burning with an unholy, lethal fury. In his right hand, he held an automatic shotgun.
"Victor," Lorenzo’s voice echoed off the subterranean arches like a death knell. "You picked the wrong house to break into."
