Chapter 4 - The Baiting of the Trap
By two o'clock in the morning, the rain had eased into a dark, thick fog that rolled off the Atlantic Ocean, blanketing the estate in an eerie white gloom.
In my private study on the second floor, the soft blue light of my desktop computer cast long shadows across the room.
Clara stood beside the terminal. Her hands were shaking slightly, but her face remained deadpan.
"Remember," I whispered, standing in the dark corner beside the heavy velvet curtains, a suppressed 9mm pistol held ready in my hand. "You're going to plug the drive into the USB port on the secondary keyboard hub. Dominic has isolated the port. It will send a fake 'activation confirmed' ping to Vance's receiver in the hills."
Clara nodded. "And then?"
"Then we wait," I said. "Once Victor sees the drive is active, he’ll think he has full access to the house’s security grid. He knows my security shifts rotate at three in the morning. He’ll make his move tonight before I realize the network has been compromised."
Clara reached out, her fingers tightening around the metallic black thumb drive.
Click.
The plastic casing slipped into the port. On the monitor, a small green indicator light began to pulse steady and slow.
"Signal confirmed," Dominic’s voice came through my miniature ear-piece. "The ping hit Vance's receiver. The local unit in the hills just initiated a high-speed data download. He took the bait, boss."
"Keep eyes on the perimeter cameras," I commanded softly into my lapel mic. "He won't come through the front gates. He’ll use the old drainage culvert near the eastern woods."
I turned to Clara. "Go back to Matteo’s room. Lock the reinforced door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me or Dominic. If you hear gunfire, stay on the floor with my son."
Clara stepped toward the study door, then paused. She turned back to look at me in the dim blue light.
"Mr. Rossi," she whispered.
"What?"
"When this is over... tell Matteo why you watch those cameras," she said softly. "He thinks you look at him through those monitors because you see a broken heir who can't take over your business. He doesn't know you're looking at him because you're terrified of losing the only piece of Elena you have left."
The words struck me like a physical blow.
Before I could answer, Clara slipped out of the room, her quiet footsteps fading down the long, carpeted hallway.
I stood alone in the dark study, staring at the empty doorway, feeling the cold weight of her truth settling into my soul.
Ten minutes passed in agonizing silence.
Then, my earpiece crackled with static.
"Boss," Dominic’s tense voice whispered. "Motion sensors on the eastern perimeter just went off. Three armed men in tactical gear just cleared the tree line. They're moving toward the terrace doors."
"Is Victor with them?" I asked, checking the slide on my pistol.
"Confirmed. He’s wearing a dark parka. He’s holding a suppressed submachine gun. They think the security cameras in the eastern wing are offline because of the drive."
"Let them get inside the foyer," I ordered, stepping out of the study into the dark upper hallway. "Shut down the primary power grid the moment all three cross the threshold."
I moved like a shadow along the marble balustrade overlooking the main entrance hall. Below me, the massive wrought-iron doors of the terrace opened slowly, letting in a swirl of cold night air and ocean fog.
Three dark figures slipped into the grand foyer, their weapons raised, flashlight beams cutting through the gloom.
In the center walked Victor Vance.
His silver hair was wet from the rain. The surgical scar on his left cheek caught the dim light, twisting his features into a grotesque, greedy grin as he looked up at the marble staircases of my home.
"Clear," one of his mercenary guards whispered.
"Get upstairs to the boy's room first," Victor commanded in a low, vicious murmur. "Eliminate the caretaker, secure the kid. Once Vincent hears his son is hostage, he’ll hand over the master keys without firing a shot."
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A dark, volcanic fury erupted inside my chest.
"Dominic," I whispered into my mic. "Kill the lights."
