Chapter 22 - The Venom of the Viper
The rain that evening fell in a fine, elegant mist across Fifth Avenue, reflecting the glittering lights of the luxury boutiques and the towering facade of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
A red carpet stretched from the curb up the monumental stone staircase to the great bronze doors. Hundreds of high-society guests, philanthropists, and city officials were arriving under black umbrellas, flashing smiles for the paparazzi line barricaded behind velvet ropes.
Among the crowd, standing discreetly beside the northern archway beneath a black lace umbrella, stood a tall, statuesque woman in a velvet evening gown. Her lips were painted blood red, and her long fingers, tipped with immaculate black lacquer, gently stroked the golden serpent compact mirror in her purse. Inside her heavy silk clutch lay an antique glass flask filled with military-grade concentrated hydrofluoric acid—a venom designed to disfigure and melt flesh in seconds.
Lucia Morello smiled a venomous, cruel smile. "Tonight, Moretti," she whispered to herself. "You will watch your precious little maid scream as her beauty turns to ash."
A stretch black limousine pulled up to the curb. The chauffeur stepped out, opening the door.
The crowd gasped in admiration as a tall, impeccably groomed man in a midnight-blue tuxedo stepped out, offering his hand to a stunning woman wearing an emerald-green silk gown with an embroidered shawl covering her shoulders and face against the drizzle.
"It’s Dante Moretti and Mrs. Castellanos!" the photographers shouted, bulbs flashing wildly like lightning.
Lucia’s eyes widened with feral delight. She slipped her hand into her purse, unscrewing the stopper of the acid flask. As the couple ascended the grand staircase toward the cathedral doors, Lucia broke from the shadows, lunging forward with blinding speed.
"For Philadelphia!" Lucia shrieked, raising the glass flask and hurling the corrosive liquid straight toward Elena’s face.
The crowd screamed in horror.
But the woman in emerald green didn't scream. With lightning reflexes, she raised a heavy Kevlar-lined umbrella, snapping it open like a ballistic shield.
The acid struck the treated fabric with a violent sizzle, melting the outer nylon into smoking black foam, but completely failing to penetrate the reinforced titanium core.
Before Lucia could recover from her shock, the man in the tuxedo grabbed her wrist in an iron vise, twisting it until the glass flask dropped harmlessly onto the wet stone steps, where it was kicked away into a safety drain.
The shawl fell back from the woman’s head.
It was not Elena Castellanos. It was Agent Sarah Vance, the lead female operative of the New York State Police Special Investigations Unit.
And the man beside her was not Dante, but Marco.
"Lucia Morello," Marco said with chilling politeness as two dozen undercover detectives closed in from the crowd, weapons drawn. "You are under arrest for attempted murder and possession of prohibited chemical weapons."
Lucia thrashed against her handcuffs, spitting with rage. "How did you know?! Who warned you?!"
From the top of the cathedral steps, the great bronze doors opened.
Dante Moretti stepped out, wearing a classic black suit. Beside him stood Elena, wearing a breathtaking white silk dress, radiant and untouched. And holding Elena’s hand was Lily, holding her golden dolphin scissors proudly in her little hand.
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Dante walked down three steps, looking down at the squirming viper with cold disgust. "A little girl with a red crayon saw you before you even bought the ticket to Manhattan, Lucia. You thought you were hunting sheep. You forgot that this house is guarded by an angel."
Lucia’s jaw dropped in sheer, unadulterated disbelief as Lily raised her dolphin scissors, clicked them twice in the air with a bright, triumphant giggle, and then blew a kiss toward the flashing police lights.
