Chapter 6 - The Stolen Blueprint-6-
The revelation hung in the dining room air like smoke from a dying fire. The accident that had paralyzed Alessandro wasn't a tragedy of fate; it was a calculated assassination attempt orchestrated by a corporate rival who thought he could buy his way out of a multi-million-dollar maritime monopoly.
"If you know who did it," I ventured carefully, cutting a small piece of duck on my plate, "why haven't you retaliated? You have the men, the money, the influence..."
"Because in my world, Sarah, revenge served raw is just murder," Alessandro replied, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "If I strike without absolute proof that the board can't dispute, the federal indictments will fall on my head, and my empire will be carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I need a paper trail. A confession signed in ink, not blood."
"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked, the weight of the situation pressing down on my chest. "I’m a secretary. I can type, I can organize files, but I know nothing about corporate espionage or shipping logistics."
Alessandro looked past me, his gaze softening as he watched Emma, who was now quietly trying to feed a small piece of bread to Mr. Rabbit while sitting safely in her modified booster chair.
"You don't need to know logistics," Alessandro said softly. "You just need to be someone they aren't looking for. Everyone in Chicago watches my lawyers, my accountants, my known associates. No one is watching the new estate secretary."
Before I could process the sheer scale of the danger he was asking me to step into, a sharp chime echoed from the wall-mounted intercom near the service door.
Mrs. Halloway’s voice crackled through the speaker, tight and urgent. "Mr. Moretti. Perimeter alarm on the north access road. A black sedan just bypassed the outer checkpoint using an old corporate clearance code."
Alessandro’s expression hardened instantly. The relaxed posture vanished, replaced by the lethal focus of a predator locked on a target. He pressed a button on the armrest of his wheelchair, activating a concealed console beneath the mahogany table. A series of high-resolution security feeds flickered onto a hidden screen set into the wood paneling.
On the screen, a sleek black sedan pulled to a halt near the staff entrance. The doors opened, and a tall, impeccably tailored man stepped out into the swirling snow. Even through the grainy infrared lens, I recognized the face from the financial news channels.
"Julian Vance," Alessandro murmured, the name tasting like ash on his tongue. "Marco’s older brother. The one with the clean public image."
"He’s here," I whispered, panic rising in my throat. "What does he want?"
"He wants to finish what Marco started," Alessandro said coldly. He looked at me, his eyes burning with an intense, unwavering resolve. "Sarah. Take Emma. Go through the private service elevator behind the pantry. It leads directly to the subterranean garage. There’s an armored car waiting there with a driver named Leo. He will take you to a safe house in the city."
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"What about you?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"I have to receive my guest," Alessandro said, a dark, dangerous smile touching his lips as he reached into a hidden compartment beneath the table and pulled out a heavy, matte-black firearm, placing it casually across his lap. "After all, it’s rude to keep family waiting."
