Chapter 7 - The Uncle’s Ultimatum
The digital clock on the console blinked 5:12 a.m.
On the screen, Gianni Vescari looked up directly into the lobby camera lens, as if he knew Matteo was watching every move through the secure feed. A thin, arrogant smile played at the corners of his mouth. He raised his phone to his ear, and a second later, the encrypted satellite console in the penthouse buzzed loudly.
Matteo hit the speakerphone toggle, keeping his hand close to his holster.
“It’s a bit early for social calls, Uncle,” Matteo said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp growl.
“Save the dramatics, Matteo,” Gianni’s voice echoed through the suite, amplified and smooth. “My men haven’t checked in from the service elevator, which tells me your little security detail failed. But let’s not pretend we’re surprised. Mercenaries are expensive, and loyalty in our family has always had an expiration date.”
Matteo glanced back at the bound mercenary lying on the carpet and Dante groaning against the wall. “Your men are currently indisposed. If you step foot in this elevator, you’ll be joining them.”
“Am I?” Gianni chuckled softly on the other end. “Look at your monitor, nephew. Switch to camera four.”
Matteo tapped a sequence on the touch panel. The screen flickered, shifting from the lobby gate to the underground parking garage beneath the building.
My breath caught in my throat.
Parked directly across from Matteo’s bulletproof sedan was a second black van. The side doors were slid open, and two of Gianni’s enforcers were hauling a heavy, steel-reinforced medical crate out of the back. Inside that crate, clearly visible through the heavy-duty industrial mesh, were rows of medical vials, cold-storage containers, and digital filing boxes.
“Recognize that?” Gianni’s voice purred through the speaker. “That’s your mother’s private medical archive, Matteo. The one you had shipped down from Boston last year, containing every single psychological evaluation, private neurological chart, and experimental treatment record from her final months at the clinic.”
Matteo’s face lost every trace of color. The muscle in his jaw clenched so hard I thought the bone would snap. “Leave that alone, Gianni. That has nothing to do with this.”
“Everything has to do with this!” Gianni’s tone snapped, turning sharp and venomous. “You’ve spent eleven months hiding in this ivory tower, mourning your brother, ignoring the family shipping ports, and playing nursemaid to a revolving door of agency temps while the Doral councilmen laugh behind our backs. That archive proves what we’ve all suspected—that your father’s stroke and your brother’s accident weren't bad luck. They were vulnerabilities.”
“You lying bastard,” Matteo hissed, taking a step toward the console. “My brother was murdered because of your drug routes into the Bahamas!”
“Bring the archive down to the lobby yourself, Matteo,” Gianni commanded, ignoring the accusation entirely. “Bring your little nurse friend with you, so we can verify her background once and for all. You have ten minutes before I instruct my men to take a hammer to every single hard drive and medical sample in that crate. Tick-tock, nephew.”
The line clicked dead.
The penthouse fell into a suffocating, dead silence. Matteo stared at the frozen image of the medical crate on the monitor, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles shone white under the emergency lights.
“You’re not going down there,” Elena said, stepping out from the kitchen island, her voice steadying as the shock wore off. “It’s a trap. The second you hand over that archive, he’ll use it to destroy what’s left of your family’s legacy—and he won't let either of us walk out of that lobby alive.”
Matteo turned his head slowly, looking at her with an expression that terrified me more than the guns or the blood. ရှင်
“It’s not just a legacy, Elena,” he said quietly. “Inside that crate is the clinical trial data for the experimental drug that could have saved my mother. If Gianni destroys it, I lose the only proof left that my father didn't kill her.”
He walked over to the nightstand, picked up his secondary Glock, and jammed it into his waistband. Then he looked down at the blood-stained floor by the service door.
“Dante,” Matteo called out coldly.
The wounded guard groaned, lifting his head against the wall. “Boss... I had to. He threatened my sister’s family in Fort Lauderdale. I didn't have a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” Matteo said, walking over and pulling the cell phone out of Dante’s pocket. He tossed it across the floor to Elena. “Call local precinct 4. Ask for Captain Vance—not Arthur Vance the lawyer, his cousin Marcus Vance, the honest one in Major Crimes. Tell him there’s an active extortion and asset seizure in progress at the Vescari Tower underground garage, and give him the security override codes.”
Elena caught the phone, her eyes widening. “You’re calling the police?”
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“I’m calling the cavalry,” Matteo said, pulling a spare rifle sling from the closet and checking the bolt. “Because if Gianni thinks he’s running this city today, he’s about to find out what happens when a Vescari stops playing by family rules.”
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