Chapter 9 - Blood and Betrayal
Desperate men do not think clearly, and Vincent Moretti was drowning in desperation.
When the capos returned to the Moretti estate to deliver the ultimatum, all hell broke loose.
Don Carlo suffered a mild heart attack from the stress and was rushed to a private clinic.
Vincent was left alone in the mansion, stripped of his title, his men, and his dignity.
He realized he was going to lose absolutely everything.
Instead of accepting defeat gracefully, his fragile ego demanded blood.
He used the last of his personal funds to hire an independent crew of freelance mercenaries.
Their target was not my father or my heavily armed brother.
Their target was me.
He assumed that if he kidnapped me, he could force my family to renegotiate the terms and restore his power.
It was a pathetic, predictable move that Julian had anticipated days in advance.
I was leaving my lawyer's office late Tuesday evening, walking toward my waiting armored car.
The street was suspiciously quiet, the streetlights flickering in the freezing wind.
Suddenly, three black vans screeched around the corner, boxing in my vehicle.
A dozen masked men jumped out, brandishing automatic weapons.
They expected a panicked socialite and a handful of startled bodyguards.
Instead, they walked directly into a heavily orchestrated Bennett ambush.
The windows of the surrounding office buildings shattered as Julian’s snipers opened fire.
The precision was terrifying, mathematical, and completely overwhelming.
Before the mercenaries could even chamber their rounds, half of them were incapacitated on the pavement.
My personal security team casually stepped out of the shadows, disarming the survivors.
I didn't even drop my handbag.
I stood calmly by the door of my car, watching the mercenaries beg for their lives.
Julian walked out of an alleyway, wearing a long dark coat, smoking a cigarette.
He crouched down next to the leader of the strike team, pressing a gun to the man's forehead.
He calmly asked the mercenary who had hired them.
The man sobbed, immediately giving up Vincent's name to save his own life.
Julian nodded, stood up, and signaled for his men to clean up the street.
He walked over to me, checking to make sure I was unharmed.
I brushed a speck of dust off my coat and smiled at him.
I told him it was time to finalize my divorce.
We did not call the police; we handled things the old-fashioned way.
Julian gathered his strike team and drove directly to the Moretti mansion.
There were no guards left to stop them from kicking down the heavy oak doors.
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Vincent was sitting in his father's study, waiting for a phone call confirming my capture.
Instead, he got my brother, bringing the full, devastating wrath of the Bennett family to his doorstep.
