Chapter 12 - The Counter-Strike of Shadows
The penthouse suite on the forty-second floor was bathed in the warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun.
Teresa Moretti sat comfortably in her velvet armchair, sipping jasmine tea while reviewing a thick stack of architectural blueprints for the renovation of her Ravenswood apartment.
Julia Bennett stood beside her, pointing out the specific dimensions for a new sunroom garden where Teresa could grow her herbs.
“You have an extraordinary mind for spatial organization, Julia,” Teresa noted, smiling warmly up at the young woman.
“You catch every tiny detail that the contractors try to gloss over.”
Julia smiled, adjusting her tailored blazer over her healing shoulder.
“When you spend ten years managing estate logistics and corporate filing systems, Mrs. Moretti, you learn how to spot a flaw before it becomes a disaster.”
The private elevator chime chimed softly in the foyer, signaling Luca’s return.
He walked into the sunlit drawing room, his dark overcoat draped over his arm, his tie loosened slightly at the collar.
Teresa looked up immediately, noticing the faint shadow of fatigue clouding his slate-gray eyes.
“You look like a man who just dismantled a kingdom,” Teresa observed gently, setting her teacup down.
“It was merely cleaning house, Aunt Teresa,” Luca replied, sinking into the sofa opposite her.
“Though there is one loose thread remaining.”
Julia turned away from the architectural plans, her attention sharpening instantly.
“What loose thread, Mr. Moretti?”
Luca pulled a manila envelope from his inner pocket and placed it on the coffee table.
“Victor Vance, the former head of commercial acquisitions for the Bellini trust, managed to slip out of the state before the asset freeze took effect.”
Teresa frowned.
“What does he have to do with us?”
“Victor was the architect behind the fraudulent Cayman shell companies,” Luca explained, his voice calm and methodical.
“Before he fled, he managed to download thirty gigabytes of proprietary Moretti shipping manifests and encrypted logistical routes onto an external hard drive.”
Julia stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on the manila envelope.
“He’s planning to sell our trade secrets to our primary syndicate rivals on the East Coast.”
“Precisely,” Luca said, looking up at Julia with quiet admiration.
“He thinks he can use our own cargo networks as leverage to negotiate immunity with federal prosecutors in New York.”
“Where is he now?” Julia asked, her voice steady and determined.
“My intelligence team tracked his digital footprint to a private marina in Racine, Wisconsin,” Luca replied.
“He’s boarding a private charter yacht bound for Montreal at midnight.”
Teresa gripped the arms of her chair, her face tightening with worry.
“Luca, you cannot get involved in a violent dock shootout. The federal marshals are watching every move you make.”
“I have no intention of using violence, Aunt Teresa,” Luca said with a chilling, confident smile.
“Violence is clumsy. Intelligence is permanent.”
He turned his gaze back to Julia.
“Julia, my security detail is securing the Racine marina within the hour. I want you to accompany me.”
Julia blinked in surprise, pointing to herself.
“Me, Mr. Moretti?”
“Victor Vance doesn't fear my enforcers,” Luca explained, standing up and buttoning his jacket.
“He expects them. He has spent three weeks preparing bribes for street-level syndicates.”
Luca stepped closer to her, his dark eyes intense and compelling.
“He will not, however, expect a brilliant corporate strategist to dismantle his digital encryption keys on his own laptop within ninety seconds.”
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Julia held his gaze, a quiet, fierce spark igniting in her own eyes.
“Let’s go ruin his trip to Canada.”
