Chapter 5 - The Reckoning on 4th Street
Rain continued to pour over the brownstones of 4th Street as three black Maybachs pulled up to the curb, blocking both ends of the narrow block.
Inside Clare’s apartment building, the dim hallway lights flickered.
Evan Mercer stood in the center of Clare’s living room, holding her pink silver laptop, his hands shaking with nervous energy. Beside him, three heavy-set men in dark leather jackets were tearing through her desk drawers, looking for flash drives and hard files.
"Did you get the master drive?" Evan asked frantically, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Frankie said if we don't have the full schematics by midnight, the deal is off!"
"Relax, rich boy," the lead enforcer growled, kicking a chair over. "The girl isn't here. We take the tech and we—"
The heavy oak front door of the apartment didn't just open; it exploded off its hinges.
The splintering wood flew across the foyer, crashing into the coffee table.
Before the four men inside could draw their weapons, Marco and six heavily armed Duca security operatives filled the room, their laser sights painting bright red dots across the chests of Frankie Moretti’s enforcers.
"Freeze!" Marco’s voice boomed like thunder. "Hands where we can see them!"
The three enforcers dropped their handguns onto the rug instantly, raising their hands above their heads, sweating profusely. They knew the red dots belonged to Duca men.
Evan Mercer dropped the laptop onto the sofa, stumbling backward until his spine hit the brick fireplace. "This... this is breaking and entering! I’m calling the police!"
From the dark hallway, Luca Duca stepped into the apartment.
He moved with effortless, predatory grace, stepping over the shattered doorframe. He wore a dark wool overcoat, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.
Behind him came Clare, wearing Luca’s heavy coat over her clothing, her posture erect, her eyes cold and unflinching as she stared at her ex-fiancé.
Evan stared at her, his eyes wild with terror. "Clare... Clare, please! Tell them to stop! I was just getting your things! I was trying to protect you!"
Luca walked slowly toward Evan. Every step he took seemed to compress the air in the room until Evan was struggling to breathe.
Luca stopped three feet away. He reached down, picked up Clare’s laptop from the sofa, inspected it for damage, and handed it back to Marco.
Then, Luca turned his attention to Evan.
"Evan Mercer," Luca said smoothly. "You owe Frankie Moretti eight hundred thousand dollars. You forged Clare’s signature on a lease agreement three weeks ago. And you put your hands on her wrist."
Luca took a heavy, leather-bound folder from Marco’s hand and tossed it onto the coffee table.
"Inside that folder," Luca continued, "is a complete record of your wire fraud, your illegal gambling accounts, and your corporate embezzlement from Mercer Capital. I purchased your debt from Frankie Moretti twenty minutes ago."
Evan’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror. "You... you bought my debt?"
"Which means," Luca leaned down, his voice dropping into an icy whisper, "you don't owe Frankie Moretti anymore. You owe me."
Evan collapsed to his knees on the hardwood floor, weeping hysterically, clutching Luca’s trousers. "Please, Mr. Duca! Please don't kill me! I'll pay it back! I'll give you everything I have!"
Luca stepped back, looking down at him with utter disgust. "I don't want your money, Mercer. And I don't kill insects."
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Luca looked at Marco. "Hand the folder to the FBI financial crimes unit. They are waiting downstairs."
Two armed federal agents stepped into the room, snapping steel handcuffs around Evan’s wrists, dragging him screaming and blubbering out into the stormy night.
