Chapter 9 - The Broken Pawn and Lauren's Confession
While the dawn mist lingered over Indiana, a very different kind of storm was tearing through the grand estate upstate.
Inside the private library of the west wing, Lauren Price was frantically stuffing diamond jewelry and designer clothing into a leather travel bag.
Her hands were shaking violently, her perfect makeup ruined by streaks of black mascara and terrified tears.
Forty minutes ago, she had walked past Marcus Bellini’s private study on the second floor, looking for reassurance after the chaos of the banquet dinner.
She had paused near the cracked mahogany door, intending to knock.
Instead, she had heard Marcus speaking into an encrypted satellite phone, his voice cold and devoid of human warmth.
"The girl and Mason survived the ambush on Route 9," Marcus had said to whoever was on the other end of the line.
"They are heading to Indiana to recover Chiara's physical documents."
"When they return, we initiate the final protocol."
"And make sure Lauren Price’s vehicle is rigged before she leaves the grounds."
"The girl is a loose end; she knows I instructed her to trip that waitress to stage a public incident."
"If she talks to the federal investigators, she compromises our timeline."
Lauren had almost screamed, dropping her purse onto the carpet before catching it in midair.
She had crept back to her guest room, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped animal.
She had spent years flirting with Marcus, flattering him, and playing the role of his elegant socialite protégé in the hope of securing lucrative shipping contracts for her family’s import business.
Now, she realized she was nothing more than a piece of disposable bait in a syndicate war.
Before Lauren could zip her travel bag, the heavy bedroom door swung open without a sound.
Rose Bellini stood in the doorway, supported by two towering personal bodyguards armed with suppressed pistols.
Rose wore an impeccably tailored black mourning gown, her dark eyes pinning Lauren to the spot like an insect under glass.
"Going somewhere so early, Lauren?" Rose asked, her voice soft, smooth, and chilling.
Lauren froze, dropping the duffel bag onto the bed, her face turning translucent with terror.
"Rose... please," Lauren sobbed, dropping to her knees on the antique Persian rug.
"Please don't kill me!"
"I didn't know!"
"I swear to God on my mother’s soul, I didn't know what Marcus was planning!"
Rose walked slowly into the room, stopping directly above the kneeling woman.
She tapped the silver ferrule of her ebony cane against the floor.
"You tripped that girl on purpose last night, Lauren," Rose said, her tone devoid of mercy.
"You pushed your chair back with enough force to shatter antique crystal."
"You created a public scene to distract the table."
"Why did Marcus order you to do that?"
Lauren covered her face with her hands, trembling so hard her teeth chattered audibly.
"He... he told me that a girl resembling Chiara had been spotted working catering shifts in the city," Lauren blubbered, the words tumbling out in a frantic torrent.
"He told me that someone had slipped her name onto the estate’s private banquet roster."
"He didn't know who placed her there, and he panicked."
"He told me if I caused a scene and had her fired immediately, he would have Frank Moretti pay her off and escort her off the grounds before you ever saw her face!"
Rose’s eyes narrowed into slits of lethal comprehension.
"Marcus saw Emma first," Rose whispered, putting the pieces together with devastating clarity.
"He saw her when the catering staff arrived at four in the afternoon."
"And he used you to try and dispose of her before dinner even started."
"Yes!" Lauren wailed, reaching out toward the hem of Rose's gown before a guard’s weapon pointed at her forehead made her freeze.
"He promised my father twenty percent of the dry dock concessions in New Jersey if I helped him manage the staff."
"He told me the girl was an extortionist!"
"He said she was trying to blackmail the family!"
"And what else did Marcus tell you, Lauren?" Rose asked, leaning down until her face was inches from Lauren’s ear.
"What else is on your phone?"
Lauren scrambled frantically toward her nightstand, grabbing her gold iPhone and holding it up with both hands like an offering.
"I recorded him!" Lauren cried, her voice cracking with desperation.
"Three days ago, when he gave me the money to give to Frank Moretti!"
"I keep voice memos of every business conversation—my father taught me to always keep leverage!"
"The audio files are on my cloud drive, Rose!"
"And there are text messages between Marcus and the contractor who brought the gasoline to the cottage!"
"He used my personal banking app to wire fifty thousand dollars to that hitman’s offshore account yesterday morning!"
Rose took the phone from Lauren’s trembling fingers and handed it to the bodyguard on her right.
"Download everything to our secure server," Rose instructed calmly.
"Back it up across three offshore nodes, and send a copy directly to Mason’s tactical unit."
The guard bowed his head and stepped out of the room to execute the order.
Rose looked down at Lauren, whose face was soaked with tears of pathetic relief.
"Did I save myself, Rose?" Lauren whispered, her voice pathetic.
"Will you let me leave?"
Rose Bellini looked at the girl who had humiliated Chiara’s daughter on the dining room floor.
"You will not leave this room until the council meets at noon, Lauren," Rose said coldly.
May you like
"And when the Don passes judgment, you will thank God on your knees if Mason only exiles you to another continent."
Rose turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving the broken socialite weeping alone in the dark.
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