Chapter 5 - The War in the Glass Towers
By 6:00 a.m. the following morning, the sun rose over a city on the brink of war.
The news broke across financial channels and local broadcasts simultaneously:
“Julian Vance, renowned defense attorney for Caruso Enterprises, has been found tied to a chair inside an abandoned warehouse near the Long Beach docks. Federal authorities report Vance was found with evidence of multi-million-dollar offshore wire fraud and money laundering connected to the rival Moretti crime syndicate.”
The news sent shockwaves through the city’s power structures.
Inside the executive boardroom on the 48th floor of Caruso Tower, Vincent sat at the head of a long glass conference table.
Seated around him were his remaining lieutenants, security directors, and financial managers.
Dominic stood beside Vincent, laying out three thin blue dossiers on the table.
“The Moretti family has gone dark, boss,” Dominic reported. “Old man Moretti pulled his lieutenants into their fortress in Staten Island. They know Vance failed. They know we have the wire logs.”
“What about the federal prosecutors?” Vincent asked, his voice steady as steel.
“Vance spilled everything to the FBI the second he was found,” Dominic said grimly. “He gave them access to three old Caruso shell accounts in Switzerland in exchange for a witness protection agreement.”
The board members gasped.
“If the feds seize those Swiss accounts, boss,” one lieutenant warned, “our entire quarterly distribution network will freeze! We won't be able to pay the union workers or the port authorities!”
Vincent didn't panic. He picked up his pen, turning it casually between his fingers.
“Julian thought he was clever,” Vincent said smoothly. “He thought those Swiss accounts were my primary reserves. He didn't realize I moved ninety percent of our liquidity into domestic logistics trusts six months ago.”
Vincent looked over at his chief financial strategist, Marcus.
“Execute protocol Delta,” Vincent commanded. “Liquidate the Swiss accounts before the federal injunction hits at nine o'clock. Transfer the balance into the Harper-Thorne Educational Foundation.”
“The foundation?” Marcus blinked. “Boss, that’s a clean charitable trust!”
“Exactly,” Vincent smiled coldly. “Let the federal prosecutors try to freeze a trust that funds three children’s hospitals. They’ll be tied up in civil court for five years.”
As the lieutenants rushed out of the room to execute his orders, Vincent walked over to his private desk.
On his monitor was a live video feed from the 40th-floor residential suite.
On the screen, Clare was sitting at the breakfast table, gently braiding Maddie’s dark curls while the little girl ate pancakes. The room was bathed in soft morning sunlight.
Vincent watched the screen for two minutes.
In the middle of a corporate war, in the middle of federal indictments and mob rivalries, that small, quiet scene of a mother brushing her daughter’s hair was the only clean thing left in his world.
Dominic walked over, noticing where Vincent’s eyes were resting.
“She’s a good woman, boss,” Dominic said quietly. “Quiet. Honest. But...”
Dominic hesitated.
“Speak, Dominic,” Vincent said, not looking away from the screen.
“The Moretti family knows someone stopped the assassin at the blue door,” Dominic warned softly. “Vance knew a child was involved. If Moretti finds out that a housekeeper’s daughter ruined a ten-million-dollar hit... he might try to use them to pull you out into the open.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened until the muscle near his ear turned to iron.
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He turned his head slowly, looking at Dominic with a gaze that made the veteran security chief take a step back.
“If any man from the Moretti family so much as breathes the name of Clare or Maddie Turner,” Vincent said, his voice dropping into a whisper that sounded like a death sentence, “I will burn their empire down to the bare earth.”
