Chapter 2 - The Red Wedding Clause
By 1:00 a.m., the main estate of the Costa family in Long Island was under high-level military lockdown.
Heavy iron gates were guarded by men carrying automatic rifles. Floodlights illuminated the sprawling driveway, where four black SUVs were parked at idling speeds. Rain continued to pour, washing over the stone fountains and immaculate lawns.
Inside the grand library, Gabriel stood behind his massive mahogany desk, unbuttoning his rain-soaked coat and throwing it over a chair. Standing across from him were three of his highest-ranking capos, their faces grim and covered in soot from the dock fires.
Clara sat quietly in a leather armchair in the corner of the room, a laptop open on her knees. Despite the terror of the situation, her professional instincts had taken over the moment they stepped into the estate.
"The Marino family lost twelve shipping containers full of high-grade electronic inventory," Mateo reported, wiping blood from a minor graze on his temple. "Old man Marino is currently in critical condition at St. Jude’s Hospital. His eldest son, Dominic Marino, has taken control of their family."
"Dominic is a hothead," Gabriel said coldly, pouring himself a glass of straight bourbon. "He's been looking for an excuse to tear up the treaty since the day his father signed it."
"Dominic claims he has security footage of a Costa logistics truck leaving the dock ten minutes before the explosion," Mateo added nervously.
Gabriel’s dark eyes narrowed. "I didn't order a hit on the Marino docks. Why would I burn down my own father-in-law's territory forty-eight hours after announcing my engagement?"
"Because someone wants this merger dead," Clara’s calm, sharp voice interrupted from the corner.
Every capo in the room turned to look at her.
Clara didn't flinch. She kept her fingers flying across her laptop keyboard. "I just pulled the encrypted fuel logs from our Newark transport terminal. Truck #402 left the depot at 11:15 p.m. without a signed manifest. The driver used an override security code that only four people in this syndicate possess."
Gabriel walked over to her chair, leaning down over her shoulder to look at the screen. The familiar scent of her shampoo filled his senses, briefly cutting through the smell of gunpowder and panic.
"Who owns the override code, Clara?" Gabriel asked quietly.
"Your chief financial officer," Clara answered, turning her head to look into his eyes. "Vincent Ross."
A collective gasp echoed among the capos in the room.
Vincent Ross was Gabriel’s uncle—a seventy-year-old syndicate veteran who had served Gabriel’s father for thirty years. He managed the syndicate's legitimate offshore banking accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands.
"Vincent?" Mateo whispered in disbelief. "Vincent has been loyal to the family for three decades!"
"Vincent opposed the Marino merger from day one," Clara countered smoothly, bringing up a series of complex financial flowcharts on her screen. "Look at these transaction logs from two weeks ago. Vincent shifted forty million dollars of Costa capital into a private shell company registered in Panama. If Gabriel marries Isabella Marino, the Marino accountants will audit our combined books. Vincent knew he would be caught stealing within twenty-four hours of the wedding."
Gabriel stood up slowly, his dark eyes burning with absolute, terrifying murder.
"Where is Vincent right now?" Gabriel asked.
"He left his estate in Alpine forty minutes ago," Mateo answered, pulling out his phone. "His car is heading toward JFK Airport."
"Intercept him," Gabriel commanded softly. "I want him brought to the Red Hook warehouse before his flight boards."
"Wait," Clara spoke up, closing her laptop and standing up to face Gabriel. "If you kill Vincent at the warehouse, Dominic Marino will still believe you burned his docks. You need proof to present to the Marino family, or this war will destroy both syndicates before sunrise."
Gabriel looked at Clara, a faint, proud smile touching his lips. Even after she had tried to quit, her brilliant, calculating mind was three steps ahead of everyone in the room.
"What do you suggest, my executive assistant?" Gabriel asked softly.
"Call a emergency council meeting of the Five Families at neutral ground," Clara said firmly. "The St. Regis Hotel ballroom. Give me two hours with Vincent’s laptop, and I will give you the paper trail that proves he set the fire and paid off Dominic Marino’s corrupt capos."
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Gabriel reached out, his hand gently cupping the back of her head, pulling her face close to his. In front of all his capos and guards, he pressed a firm, lingering kiss against her forehead.
"You have two hours, Clara," Gabriel whispered against her skin. "Save my empire."
