Chapter 13 - The Ghost of the Empire
I sprinted toward the executive elevators, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. When the steel doors slid open on the eightieth floor, the sight before me was absolute chaos. The elite, heavily armed Rossi security detail was on the ground, groaning in pain, their weapons scattered across the plush carpet.
Standing in the center of the shattered glass doors of the boardroom was Alessandro Rossi.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored bespoke suit, leaning casually on an elegant, silver-tipped cane. He possessed Dominic’s striking features, but his eyes were entirely dead—twin pools of black obsidian devoid of any human empathy. He smiled as I stepped off the elevator, a chilling, calculated expression.
"Ah, the famous little housekeeper," Alessandro purred, his voice smooth and cultured, carrying a faint European accent. "I must say, Dominic’s taste in women has improved. You look quite convincing in that suit. But a stray dog wearing a diamond collar is still just a stray dog, isn't it?"
Dominic was standing at the head of the boardroom table, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. The sheer, murderous rage radiating from him was palpable. "How are you alive, Alessandro?" Dominic growled, stepping in front of me to shield my body.
"Money, little brother. It is the ultimate resurrection tool," Alessandro chuckled, slowly pacing around the massive mahogany table. "Our dear mother locked me away because I was too ruthless for her delicate sensibilities. And when our father threatened to hand the company to me, his plane mysteriously fell out of the sky. But Richard Vance found me. He financed my freedom. And in exchange, I allowed him to play his little games with Victoria."
"The Vances are rotting in federal prison," I fired back, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. I stepped out from behind Dominic, refusing to cower. "And the trust is entirely controlled by Carmela. You have no legal standing here."
Alessandro’s eyes snapped to me, flashing with dangerous amusement. "Legality is for the poor, Skylar. I don't want a board seat. I want everything. And I have something that will force Dominic to sign the entire empire over to me by midnight."
He reached into his breast pocket and tossed a sleek, black smartphone onto the table. It clattered across the polished wood and stopped directly in front of us. The screen illuminated, displaying a live video feed.
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It was Carmela Rossi. She was sitting in the gardens of the estate, painting on her canvas. But standing directly behind her, holding a suppressed pistol mere inches from her head, was one of Alessandro’s mercenaries.
"Sign the transfer papers, Dominic," Alessandro whispered, his voice turning to absolute ice. "Or the true tragedy of the Rossi family happens today."
