Chapter 11 - Midnight in the Study
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"Camilla isn't with the Feds," Clara whispered the moment the armored Maybach pulled away from the Metropolitan Club at 11:15 PM.
She sat facing Dante in the dimly lit cabin, already unbuckling her silver heels as adrenaline coursed through her veins.
"Orlov slipped up," she continued rapidly. "He said Camilla is currently learning how unforgiving Viktor is when an investment fails. Which means Viktor’s people intercepted her before she ever reached the District Attorney’s office—or someone inside the precinct handed her over."
Dante’s expression darkened as he loosened his black bow tie, leaving it hanging undone around his open collar. "Or Uncle Enzo told Viktor which safehouse the police were taking her to."
"Have you found proof against Enzo yet?"
"Marco cracked in the Red Hook warehouse an hour ago," Dante said coldly. "Luca sent me the confession while you were dancing with me. Enzo has been feeding Viktor our port schedules for three months. Tonight was supposed to be the final coup—Viktor gets the master encrypted drive through you, wipes out our ships at dawn, and Enzo steps up as the head of the Moretti family with Viktor’s backing."
Clara stared at him in horror. "Your own blood."
"In this life, Clara, blood is just the first thing people spill when the price is right," Dante said quietly.
They arrived back at the Tribeca penthouse at 11:45 PM. A replacement guard—one of Luca’s loyal men wearing Marco’s suit jacket from behind on the dim camera angles—stood near the study door so Enzo’s remote monitoring wouldn't suspect a thing.
At five minutes to midnight, Clara slipped into Dante’s dimly lit mahogany study alone, just as scripted.
On the leather blotter sat the small silver flash drive.
Her hands weren't shaking anymore. She picked up the cloned phone from her clutch, slid the silver drive into the charging port adapter, and watched the progress bar climb across the screen: 25%... 50%... 80%... UPLOAD COMPLETE.
What Viktor and Enzo didn't know was that Dante’s chief cybersecurity engineer had spent the afternoon loading that drive with a catastrophic Trojan virus disguised as shipping manifests—along with false coordinates that would lure Viktor’s hit squads straight into an FBI and Harbor Patrol sting operation at Pier 40.
As the screen flashed 100%, the heavy oak door behind her clicked shut without a sound.
Clara spun around, expecting Dante.
Instead, standing inside the shadows of the study with a suppressed Beretta leveled directly at her chest was Uncle Enzo.
"Drop the phone on the desk, girl," Enzo whispered coldly.
Clara froze, her heart leaping into her throat. "How did you get past the elevator guards?"
"I helped build this tower thirty years ago, before Dante’s father died," Enzo sneered, stepping into the pool of amber lamplight, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Do you really think I don't know the maintenance shafts? Viktor wanted you brought out alive as leverage, just in case the drive was a trick. Personally, I always thought leaving witnesses was sloppy."
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"If you shoot me, Dante will hear it," Clara said, slowly backing up an inch toward the heavy desk, her fingers brushing the cold brass base of a heavy banker’s lamp.
"With a subsonic suppressor? By the time Dante walks down from the master bedroom, I’ll already be in the private elevator with the real backup drive from his wall safe," Enzo said, raising the muzzle toward her forehead. "Goodbye, waitress."
