Chapter 12 - The Patriarch’s Verdict
The private study of the Barrington estate smelled of aged bourbon, burning cedar wood, and old leather. Don Lorenzo Russo sat in his high-backed leather armchair by the roaring fireplace, swirling a glass of amber whiskey as Callum and Sadie entered the room.
Marcus stood quietly by the doorway, sealing the heavy oak doors behind them. Don Lorenzo looked up, his clouded eyes taking in Sadie’s bandaged ankle, her torn coat, and the flash drive resting securely in Callum’s palm.
“The federal task force has officially seized Sterling’s shipping terminals and frozen his offshore accounts,” Callum reported, tossing the flash drive onto the mahogany desk in front of his grandfather. “The eastern syndicate is headless. The ports belong entirely to us.”
Don Lorenzo didn't look at the flash drive. He kept his gaze fixed squarely on Sadie. “And the appraiser?” the patriarch asked, his raspy voice carrying a heavy, testing weight. “What do we do with the civilian who holds the keys to the family’s entire financial kingdom?”
Sadie stepped forward before Callum could answer. She did not flinch, nor did she lower her eyes. “I don't want your protection, Mr. Russo,” Sadie said clearly. “And I don't want charity. But my position at the museum was compromised the moment Viktor Sterling’s men walked into the archives.”
Don Lorenzo raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Are you asking for a payout?” “I’m asking for a partnership,” Sadie corrected without missing a beat. “The Russo syndicate needs someone who understands international provenance, black-market auction logistics, and financial encryption better than any accountant you have on payroll. And I need a security apparatus that ensures no one ever touches me on a rainy street corner again.”
The room fell into absolute silence. Even Marcus held his breath, waiting for the patriarch’s explosive reaction.
May you like
For three agonizing seconds, Don Lorenzo stared at her. Then, slowly, a deep, rumbling laugh broke from the old man's chest. He raised his glass in a silent toast.
“Callum,” Don Lorenzo said, looking up at his grandson with a gleaming eye. “I told you she was dangerous. Welcome to the family, Ms. Miller.”
