Chapter 2 - The Crash on the FDRFive days earlier, the world had made complete sense. Or at least, Dominic Moretti had believed it did.
It was raining hard over New York City, the asphalt of the FDR Drive slick with oil and autumn leaves. Dominic sat in the back of his custom-armored Bentley Continental, reviewing portfolio acquisitions on his tablet while his loyal driver, Nico, navigated the heavy midnight traffic. Nico was more than a driver; he was an ex-marine who had saved Dominic's life during a warehouse dispute in Queens five years prior.
“Traffic’s thinning out ahead, Mr. Moretti,” Nico called out over the hum of the engine, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. “Something feels off about the sedan riding our bumper for the last three miles.”
Dominic looked up from his screen, narrowing his eyes. The black sedan behind them had no plates visible through the spray. Before Dominic could issue an order to pull off at the next exit, Nico slammed his foot down on the brake pedal.
Nothing happened.
The pedal went straight to the floorboards with a sickening, hollow resistance.
“Brakes are gone!” Nico roared, his voice laced with sudden, chilling adrenaline. He wrenched the steering wheel, pumping the emergency brake, but the heavy luxury vehicle was hurtling toward a concrete barrier at eighty miles per hour. “Hold on, boss!”
The impact was catastrophic. The world folded inward in a deafening shriek of tearing metal, shattered glass, and exploding airbags. Dominic felt his ribs shatter against the seatbelt, a wave of scalding heat wash over his face, and then the universe dissolved into a thick, suffocating blackness.
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When he woke up hours later in the trauma center, the doctors were whispering about massive internal trauma, cerebral contusions, and a vegetative state. But through the fog of painkillers and surgical drugs, Dominic remembered the last thing Nico had muttered before the glass shattered: The lines were cut.
It wasn't an accident. It was an assassination. And the only people who knew the maintenance schedule of the Bentley were his head of security, his cousin Anthony, and his fiancée, Veronica.
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