Chapter 9 - THE FINAL SHOWDOWN AT THE GATES
Just as I was packing the last of my medical supplies into my canvas duffel, the quiet morning atmosphere of the Rossi estate was shattered by a sudden screech of tires echoing up the winding mountain driveway.
Leo’s head snapped toward the window. He dropped the silver tray onto the desk and rushed to the balcony doors that overlooked the front courtyard.
“Mr. Rossi,” Leo called out, his voice laced with sudden urgency. “It’s Vincent. He’s back. And he brought reinforcements.”
I paused, zipping my bag shut. “I thought you signed the transfer papers.”
Dominic didn't look panicked. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the sharp pull in his injured shoulder. He reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a heavy black steel firearm, checking the magazine with a smooth, practiced click before sliding it into the waistband of his trousers.
“Vinnie was never one to accept defeat gracefully,” Dominic said coldly, his eyes turning hard as flint. “He thinks because I was wounded, I’m entirely defenseless.”
“You are recovering from surgery!” I protested, stepping in front of him. “If you tear those stitches now, you’ll bleed out in five minutes!”
“Step aside, Nora,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. But as he looked down at me, his expression softened for a fraction of a second. “Go down to the panic room behind the study with Leo. Stay there until I come back.”
“I didn't stay up all night nursing you back from the brink of sepsis just so you could get yourself killed in your own driveway!” I shot back, grabbing my duffel bag like a club. “If you’re going downstairs, I’m going with you to make sure you don't drop dead before I get my paycheck!”
Dominic stared at me in stunned disbelief, then let out a short, sharp laugh. “You really are out of your mind, Nora Hayes.”
“Takes one to know one,” I replied.
When we stepped out into the grand hallway, the heavy sound of shattering glass echoed from the foyer below. Vincent’s men had breached the front windows.
Leo stood at the head of the grand staircase with three of Dominic’s guards, their weapons drawn. When Dominic appeared at the top of the stairs, shirtless, pale, but radiating absolute lethal authority, the men below froze.
Vincent stood in the center of the shattered foyer, holding a pistol and flanked by four hired thugs. His face was twisted into an ugly mask of desperation and rage.
“It’s over, Dom!” Vincent screamed up the stairs, raising his weapon. “You should have stayed in bed!”
Dominic didn't flinch. He rested his left hand on the polished mahogany banister, looking down at his cousin like an executioner surveying a condemned prisoner.
“You broke the rules, Vinnie,” Dominic’s voice boomed through the high-ceilinged hall, cold and absolute. “And on my property, that’s a fatal mistake.”
Before Vincent could pull the trigger, the side doors of the foyer burst open. Sirens wailed loudly in the distance, echoing up the mountain road—not police sirens, but federal task force vehicles swarming the estate gates. The evidence ledger Dominic had sent off with his prosecutors had arrived right on schedule.
Vincent’s face went pale. His gun slipped slightly in his grip.
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In a flash of movement, Dominic’s security guards swarmed down the stairs, disarming Vincent’s thugs before they could react. Two guards pinned Vincent against the shattered marble wall, clicking steel handcuffs around his wrists with a sharp snap.
“Take him away,” Dominic ordered quietly, walking slowly down the stairs with me right behind him to make sure his stitches held. “And make sure he has plenty of time to read every single page of that ledger in a federal penitentiary.”
