Chapter 4 - The Betrayal at the Cliff
The humiliation at the gala broke whatever sanity Marco Vance had left.
Two weeks later, as the construction on the Lake Como estate reached its final phase—the installation of the massive reinforced glass living room hanging over the cliff—a sudden storm rolled in from the Swiss Alps.
Rain lashed against the stone walls of the villa, and fog enveloped the promontory in a thick white blanket.
It was eight o'clock on a Friday evening. The construction crews had been dismissed early due to the weather. Elena was alone inside the main villa's newly finished library, reviewing the final lighting schematics by the warm light of a massive stone fireplace.
The three brothers were down at the boathouse securing the estate’s private yachts against the rising waves.
Suddenly, the heavy iron side doors of the library slammed open. Cold rain and wind rushed into the warm room, flickering the fire.
Elena stood up from her drafting desk, her heart dropping into her stomach.
Marco Vance stepped into the library.
He was soaked in rain, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes disheveled. In his shaking right hand, he held a heavy black handgun.
Behind him stepped two rough-looking men in raincoats—hired thugs from Milan’s northern suburbs.
"Marco?" Elena said, her voice remarkable steady despite the sudden spike of adrenaline in her blood. "Have you completely lost your mind?"
"You ruined me, Elena!" Marco screamed, his voice cracking with unhinged desperation. "The Morettis bought my loans! My firm is bankrupt! My house is seized! Sophia left me yesterday because I couldn't pay her credit cards!"
Elena looked at the trembling gun in his hand. "You ruined yourself, Marco. You cheated on me with my sister, you lied, and you proved yourself to be a coward."
"Shut up!" Marco yelled, taking two heavy steps toward her. "You're going to fix this! You're going to hand over the full structural blueprints of this estate! I have a buyer in Chicago who will pay five million euros for the Moretti family's private security schematics!"
"I would rather burn this villa to the ground," Elena said coldly.
Marco raised the gun, pointing it straight at her chest. "Then I'll shoot you, take your hard drive, and burn the place myself!"
"I wouldn't advise that," a calm, terrifying voice echoed from the shadows of the upper gallery.
Marco spun around in terror.
Alessandro stepped out from the spiral staircase, holding a heavy suppressed pistol. Below, near the main archway, Matteo and Lorenzo stepped through the rain, blocking both exits with silent, lethal grace.
"You..." Marco stammered, his gun shaking violently as he tried to cover both Alessandro and Matteo. "Stay back! I'll kill her! I swear to God I'll shoot her!"
Matteo didn't stop walking. He stepped smoothly between Marco’s gun and Elena, shielding her entirely with his massive body.
"You picked the wrong house, Vance," Matteo growled, his scarred face twisted into a terrifying grin.
"I have a gun!" Marco shrieked.
"And you don't know how to use it," Lorenzo said smoothly from behind.
Before Marco could pull the trigger, Lorenzo moved with blinding speed. He grabbed Marco’s wrist, twisting it upward with a sharp CRACK!
Marco screamed in agony as the gun clattered onto the hardwood floor. Matteo stepped in, delivering a devastating punch to Marco’s solar plexus, knocking the air completely out of him and dropping him to his knees in a sobbing mess.
The two hired thugs threw their hands in the air immediately, dropping their knives onto the floor in utter terror.
Alessandro walked slowly down the stairs, ignoring Marco entirely as he walked straight to Elena. He cupped her face in his broad hands, his eyes searching hers for any sign of injury.
"Did he touch you, Elena?" Alessandro asked softly, his deep voice thick with emotion.
"No," Elena whispered, resting her hands against his chest, leaning into his warmth. "I'm okay, Alessandro."
Alessandro kissed her forehead deeply, holding her close for a long moment before turning to look down at Marco, who was sobbing on the floor, clutching his broken wrist.
"Marcus," Alessandro commanded coldly.
Matteo stepped forward. "Boss?"
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"Take Mr. Vance and his friends to the lower vaults," Alessandro ordered flatly. "Inform the police that an armed intruder attempted to rob the estate. Hand over the security footage. By morning, ensure he faces twenty years in high-security prison for attempted murder and armed treason."
"With pleasure, brother," Matteo grinned, dragging Marco out by his collar like a bag of trash.
