Chapter 8 - THE WHISPER OF THE VIPER
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Beneath the cover of the banking terminal, Luca’s fingers typed a series of silent, rapid commands on the keypad.
He wasn't authorizing a wire to Grand Cayman; he was transmitting GPS coordinates directly to Marco’s tactical unit.
Marco stood near the door, his phone vibrating once against his heavy leather belt.
Without changing his expression, Marco reached down, felt the distinct pulse pattern, and understood the order.
He took two silent steps backward into the shadows of the third-floor corridor to mobilize the assault team.
Vanessa was so intoxicated by the glowing green balance numbers on the screen that she noticed nothing.
“Forty million dollars,” she purred, walking toward the open safe to admire the gold bars stacked inside.
“Lorenzo hoarded all this blood money while my mother had to clean hotel toilets to buy my school clothes.”
Arthur raised his head from the floor, his voice cracking with righteous indignation.
“Lorenzo tried to help your mother, Vanessa!”
“He paid her hospital bills for three years after your father abandoned her to flee to Mexico!”
“I delivered the envelopes of cash to her bedside myself every single month!”
Vanessa spun around, her eyes flashing with wild, manic fury.
“Shut your mouth, old man!” she shrieked, kicking Arthur’s cane across the polished floorboards.
“Lorenzo murdered my father in everything but name by stripping his territory and leaving him with nothing!”
“He deserved to choke on his own blood!”
Luca stopped typing, his hands resting flat against the mahogany desktop.
The air in the room instantly dropped by twenty degrees as his dark eyes locked onto his wife.
“What did you say about my father choking?” Luca asked, every syllable laced with lethal quietness.
Vanessa smiled, an arrogant, venomous grin that revealed the true depth of her depravity.
She thought she was completely untouchable with the burner phone still glowing in her hand.
“You really thought he died of a natural heart attack in his sleep, didn't you, Luca?”
“You thought the great Don Lorenzo Moretti just peacefully slipped away like an ordinary old man?”
She walked closer to the desk, leaning over the front of it with twisted delight.
“He had a mild arrhythmia, nothing that would kill a healthy horse.”
“All it took was replacing his nightly blood pressure pills with concentrated digitalis for three weeks.”
“A little powder in his evening tea every night, right under Arthur’s blind, stupid nose.”
Arthur gasped, clutching his throat as the realization washed over him like a wave of burning acid.
“The chamomile tea,” Arthur whispered in horror, tears streaming down his face.
“You always insisted on bringing him his tray at nine o’clock.”
“I let you carry it to his bedroom!”
“I helped you kill him!” the butler wailed, slamming his fists against the floor in sheer agony.
“Don't blame yourself, Arthur,” Vanessa laughed, her eyes glittering with sick satisfaction.
“You were just an ignorant pawn, exactly like Luca.”
“Lorenzo died gasping for air while I watched from the foot of his bed, holding his hand so he couldn't reach the call button.”
“And now, his son is handing me twenty million dollars to walk away scot-free.”
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She didn't notice Luca’s hand slowly reaching toward the vintage cassette recorder sitting inside the safe.
“You should have checked what else was inside that safe before you started bragging, Vanessa,” Luca said.
