Chapter 2 - The House of Glass
The air in the subterranean vault turned to liquid ice.
"Put the gun down, Marco," Matteo said, not a single muscle twitching in his face. "You know you won't walk out of this estate alive."
"I don't plan to walk out, Boss," Marco said, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. "Celeste has a helicopter landing on the north lawn in ten minutes. She has the black binder. She’s taking her offshore accounts and leaving the country. My family is already on a private flight to Frankfurt. I just needed to make sure Elena stayed locked in this room until the rotors spun up."
From the floor behind Matteo, Elena gasped, trying to cover Sophie’s eyes.
Matteo didn't look back. "You traded your honor for a woman who will kill you the moment you board that chopper."
"Maybe," Marco whispered. "But a desperate father doesn't care about honor."
Suddenly, a loud, echoing crack resonated down the stone corridor behind Marco!
CLANG!
Rinaldi had returned—not with medics, but with two of Matteo’s most ruthless tactical guards from the perimeter team. Before Marco could pivot, the lead guard slammed a heavy tactical shield into Marco’s back!
BOOM!
Marco was slammed violently against the stone doorframe, his gun flying from his grip, clattering across the floor! The two guards tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back and snapping steel cuffs over his wrists within seconds.
Matteo didn't even look down at his former head of security as he was dragged away. He turned back to Elena and Sophie.
"Rinaldi, get them up to my private quarters," Matteo ordered, picking Sophie up in his arms while the second guard carefully helped Elena to her feet. "Have Dr. Harrison evaluate Elena immediately. Put four guards outside the door."
"And you, Mr. Valenti?" Rinaldi asked, his face pale.
Matteo walked over, picked up Marco’s dropped sidearm from the floor, and checked the magazine with a sharp, practiced movement.
"I’m going to go have a word with my sister-in-law," Matteo said softly.
Three floors above, the grand estate was cloaked in thick morning fog. In the master suite of the west wing, Celeste Valenti was standing before a full-length mirror, zipping up a black leather coat. On the bed lay a heavy leather duffel bag containing stacks of offshore bearer bonds and the stolen black binder.
Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless. She looked like a woman preparing for a high-society getaway.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of her suite were kicked inward with a sound like thunder!
BANG!
Celeste jumped, spinning around, her hand dropping toward her open handbag.
Matteo stepped into the room. He was still wearing his travel coat, dusted with cement powder from the blue door. In his right hand, held loosely at his side, was the tactical pistol.
"Going somewhere, Celeste?" Matteo asked, his voice low and smooth.
Celeste recovered her composure instantly, taking a smooth breath, adjusting her diamond earring. "Matteo... darling. You scared me. What is the meaning of this dramatic entrance? Rinaldi told me you had returned, but I thought you were in your office."
Matteo walked slowly across the Persian rug, stopping three feet from her. "Where is Elena?"
Celeste let out a soft, theatrical sigh, shaking her head with gentle pity. "Oh... the maid? Matteo, it’s so tragic. She packed her bags and left on Tuesday. I told Rinaldi about it. I think she had some debt issues in the city. You know how those people are—unreliable."
Matteo raised his arm. He didn't point the gun at her; instead, he brought his hand forward and opened his palm.
Sitting in his hand was the pearl button Sophie had found in the dust outside the blue door.
Celeste’s eyes darted to the button. A tiny, barely perceptible twitch appeared at the corner of her left eye.
"Sophie found this," Matteo said softly. "A five-year-old child spent three nights alone in this massive house, listening to her mother knock on a concrete wall two floors beneath your feet. While you drank forty-year-old scotch in this room."
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Celeste’s diplomatic facade finally began to crack, replaced by a cold, arrogant sneer. "She was a servant, Matteo. A nobody. She caught me taking what belongs to my late husband’s legacy. Do you really think a jury in this city will take the word of a homeless maid over a Valenti?"
"She isn't a servant, Celeste," Matteo said, taking one more step closer until his shadow completely engulfed her. "She is the woman who raised my household. And you... are a thief who is about to learn what happens when you touch what is mine."
