Chapter 20 - The Dead Man's Switch
The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza was a sea of velvet, lace, and silver filigree masks.
Matteo and I entered through the private service corridor, bypassing the metal detectors with the help of security personnel on Matteo's payroll.
I wore a mask of black spun lace that covered only the upper half of my face, leaving my red lips and sharp jaw exposed.
Matteo walked beside me, wearing a simple obsidian half-mask that made him look like an ancient, vengeful god.
The room was buzzing with music and whispered gossip about Arthur Vance's sudden downfall at the Union Club hours earlier.
We moved through the crowd like smoke, ascending the curved marble staircase toward the private mezzanine.
Two armed guards in tailored Italian suits stepped into our path at the top of the landing.
Before they could even reach inside their jackets, Marco and another operative appeared from behind the heavy velvet curtains.
With two muffled thuds, both guards were dragged silently into the alcoves, leaving the path clear.
Matteo pushed open the heavy brass doors of the private suite.
Dominic Castiglione did not even flinch; he merely set his wine glass down on the silver tray and smiled an old, rotten smile.
Eleanor Vance gasped, dropping her crystal flute, which shattered into a hundred sparkling shards across the Persian rug.
"Alexandra..." Eleanor stammered, clutching her pearl necklace with trembling, ring-covered fingers.
"You always did have your mother's stubborn spine, little bird," Dominic rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves crushing under a boot.
"You're trespassing on De Luca territory, Castiglione," Matteo said, taking two slow, deliberate steps into the room.
"Your men at the railyards are already in handcuffs, and your Swiss accounts were emptied three minutes ago."
"Did you really think this was about money, Matteo?" Dominic asked, letting out a wheezing, mocking laugh.
"Julian was a pathetic, abusive dog, I admit."
"He couldn't keep his fists to himself, and he certainly couldn't run a money route."
"Then why use him?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the tension like a straight razor.
"Because Julian possessed something far more dangerous than balance sheets, my dear," Dominic sneered, reaching into his pocket.
Matteo immediately drew his silenced pistol, aiming it directly at Dominic's forehead.
"Hands on the table, old man," Matteo ordered with lethal clarity.
Dominic didn't flinch; he slowly pulled out a small, heavy silver remote control with a single blinking red diode on its surface.
"Julian knew you were falling for your accountant, Matteo," Dominic whispered, his cold eyes dancing with malicious delight.
"He knew that if he ever went missing, you would take her into your penthouse to protect her."
A sudden, cold terror gripped my spine, far worse than any blow Julian had ever landed.
"What did you do?" I whispered, my heart slamming violently against my ribs.
Dominic looked directly at me, his smile widening until it revealed yellowed teeth.
"Julian didn't hide a secondary safe at Kane Street, Alexandra," Dominic said softly.
"He spent three months before his death retrofitting the HVAC ventilation shafts of Matteo's penthouse with military-grade C4."
"The dead man's switch was never linked to his death; it was linked to the moment you cracked his Swiss ledger."
"Which you did forty minutes ago."
The red diode on the remote stopped blinking and turned to a solid, blinding crimson.
Far across the city, the night sky over Central Park lit up with a deafening, catastrophic flash of fire and falling glass.
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Matteo spun toward the panoramic window, his face freezing in utter, helpless disbelief as the upper twelve floors of his empire dissolved into an inferno.
Before anyone could draw breath, the lights in the Plaza ballroom went completely black, followed by the terrifying sound of a hammer cocking in the darkness directly behind my head.
