Chapter 4 - THE FALL OF MANHATTAN
Two hours later, we were inside a secure, unmarked penthouse high above the glittering skyline of Manhattan. While Doctor Evans gave Lily a final health check—confirming her fever was completely gone and her lungs were clear—Victor stood at a massive glass table, surrounded by his top lieutenants and computer specialists.
The silver locket lay in the center of the table, connected to a military-grade decryption drive via a thin fiber-optic cable. Blue lines of code cascaded across four high-definition monitors mounted on the wall.
"Decryption complete, Mr. Moretti," the lead technician reported, tapping the keyboard rapidly. "It's all here. The offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, the real estate holding companies in London and Dubai, and the master list of federal officials on the Vance payroll."
"Upload everything to the Department of Justice, the FBI, and the International Criminal Court simultaneously," Victor ordered without hesitation. "Set a ten-minute delay timer on the release so it hits every major news network at the same moment."
"Wait," Marco interrupted, stepping forward with a tablet. "If we release this publicly, it will destroy the Vance syndicate, but it will also expose our own historical ties to their early operations. The authorities will launch a full investigation into Moretti enterprises as well."
Victor didn't flinch. "I don't care about the enterprises, Marco. I am sixty-two years old. My empire was built on blood and shadows to keep my enemies at bay. But Hannah and Lily are not going to live in the shadows."
He turned to look at me, standing near the doorway with Lily wrapped securely in my arms.
"I am liquidating all Moretti assets into an untraceable blind trust for Hannah and her daughter," Victor declared to his lieutenants. "The legal paperwork is already signed. By morning, the Moretti crime family ceases to exist. We are stepping into the light."
Before Marco could reply, a red icon flashed on the main screen.
"Sir!" the technician shouted. "An incoming video signal is pinging our private server. It’s originating from the top floor of the Vance Tower on Wall Street."
"Put it on the main screen," Victor commanded.
The monitors flickered, replaced by the image of a luxurious office overlooking the frozen East River. Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk was a man in his late thirties, wearing a bespoke grey suit. His face was sharp, arrogant, and pale, with cold blue eyes that oozed malice.
Julian Vance.
"Victor," Julian spoke through the speakers, his voice smooth and dripping with venom. "I must congratulate you. Your security forces were more stubborn than my mercenaries anticipated."
"Your mercenaries are dead, Julian," Victor said, stepping toward the screen, his hands resting calmly on the table. "And in less than seven minutes, every law enforcement agency on the planet will have the decryption keys to your entire empire."
Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a sick, twisted smile slowly spread across his lips.
"Do you really think I care about the money, old man?" Julian sneered. "My father died in a prison cell because of your interference. My aunt Elena betrayed her own bloodline for a brute like you. You took my family’s legacy. I don't care if I go to prison, Victor—as long as I take Elena's bastard child and grandchild with me to hell."
Julian held up a small black detonator with a single blinking red switch.
"I know where you are, Victor," Julian chuckled softly. "You think that penthouse is secure? Check the foundation vaults of the building beneath you. My men placed three hundred pounds of industrial explosives in the basement two hours ago. The moment I press this button, the entire tower comes down, and you, Hannah, and that child will be buried under eighty stories of concrete."
My heart stopped. I squeezed Lily tightly against my chest, panic surging through my veins.
"Julian, stop!" I screamed at the screen. "Lily is just an eight-month-old baby! She has done nothing to you!"
Julian looked at me through the camera, his smile turning feral. "You have your mother's eyes, Hannah. It will be a pleasure to shut them forever."
Victor didn't panic. He didn't shout. Instead, he stepped directly in front of the camera, blocking Julian’s view of me.
"You always were an arrogant fool, Julian," Victor said softly. "Just like your father. You think you're the only one who knows how to plan ahead?"
Julian’s smirk wavered. "What are you talking about?"
Victor raised his wrist, tapping a button on his heavy tactical watch.
"Did you really think I didn't trace where your mercenary squad got their explosives?" Victor asked, his voice chillingly calm. "Your demolition expert was caught two hours ago at the harbor. My men didn't just disarm the charges in my basement, Julian... they moved them."
Julian’s face went corpse-pale. "Where... where did they move them?"
"Check your floor plan, Julian," Victor replied.
On Julian’s end of the video screen, heavy glass windows behind his desk suddenly blew inward with a deafening roar. Shadows surged into his office from the private helipad on the roof—not the police, but Marco’s elite strike force, who had taken the Vance Tower’s secondary elevator while Julian was busy talking.
Julian lunged for the detonator on his desk, but a single sniper shot shattered his hand, sending the device flying across the marble floor. Within seconds, three armored men tackled Julian to the ground, pinning him beneath heavy tactical boots and securing his wrists in steel cuffs.
Marco stepped into the camera frame, picking up the fallen detonator and disarming it with a quick turn of a key. He looked into the lens and nodded to Victor.
"Target secured, Boss," Marco reported cold authority. "The Vance Tower is under our control. The FBI entry team is arriving at the front doors now."
Victor looked at the screen, staring down at the terrified, bleeding form of Julian Vance pinned to the floor.
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"It’s over, Julian," Victor said softly. "Elena Rossi finally gets her peace."
Victor pressed a key on the console, cutting the feed forever.
