Chapter 4 - The Safehouse in the Hills
The heavy iron gates of the DeLuca hunting lodge in the Berkshire Mountains swung shut, locking out the storm. Located fifty miles north of the city, surrounded by dense pine forests and high-voltage security fencing, the timber-frame estate was Lorenzo's most secure off-the-grid sanctuary.
Inside, a log fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace. Bruno was eating ravenously from a large bowl of fresh meat set down by one of Lorenzo's guards, while a private physician tended to Isabella’s bruised wrists and exhaustion in the master bedroom.
Lorenzo stood on the balcony overlooking the rainy valley, a glass of untouched scotch in his hand.
Mason stepped out onto the balcony, holding an encrypted laptop. "The preliminary forensics on the mercenary's phone are complete, Boss. The calls came from a burner phone registered to a shell company in Delaware."
"Who owns the shell company, Mason?" Lorenzo asked without turning around.
"Victor Vance," Mason confirmed gravely. "He’s been draining funds from the offshore transport accounts for the last six weeks—nearly eighty million dollars. He thought with Isabella dead and you paralyzed by grief, no one would audit the ledgers before he finalized a takeover with the Chicago Outfit."
Lorenzo’s glass shattered in his fist. Blood dripped down his fingers onto the stone floor, but he didn't blink.
"So Victor wanted her dead because she found out about the embezzlement," Lorenzo said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"She was managing the charitable trusts," Mason explained. "She noticed the four-million-dollar discrepancy three days before her crash. She went to Victor to ask about it, assuming it was an accounting error. She didn't realize she was talking to the traitor."
The door to the balcony opened, and Isabella stepped out, wrapped in a warm cashmere sweater. Her face was clean, her hair brushed, though her green eyes remained heavy with the weight of her nightmare.
Mason bowed his head respectfully. "Mrs. DeLuca. It is an honor to have you back." He quietly stepped back inside, leaving the couple alone.
Lorenzo turned to his wife. He wrapped his clean hand gently around her cheek, his thumb tracing the faint scar along her jawline.
"I buried a box filled with stones and burnt metal, Isabella," he whispered, his voice cracking with a rare, profound vulnerability. "I spent sixty days dying in that house without you."
"I wanted to come back every second, Lorenzo," she cried softly, leaning into his touch. "But Victor told me if I showed my face, he would execute Emma and Sophia. He knew Sophia had seen me at the freight yard, and he kept a sniper trained on their apartment building."
Lorenzo’s eyes flared with a lethal light. "He threatened my people... he threatened a three-year-old child."
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"What are you going to do?" Isabella asked, searching his dark face.
"I am going to let Victor think his plan is succeeding," Lorenzo said, a cold, ruthless smile touching his lips. "And then I am going to tear his world down to the bedrock."
