Chapter 6 - The Dragon’s Den
The morning after the siege, the estate was a hive of intense, silent activity.
Contractors and specialized cleanup crews worked tirelessly to repair the shattered glass, replace damaged stone, and scrub the foyer clean. By noon, except for the faint smell of fresh paint and industrial cleaner, you would never have known a battle had raged through the halls.
I sat in the private study on the ground floor, nursing Rose while Nathan sat across from his massive mahogany desk, conferring with Viktor and his legal counsel, a sharp, cold-eyed woman named Evelyn Vance.
"Moretti has retreated to his primary stronghold in Manhattan," Evelyn explained, sliding a tablet across the desk. "A penthouse suit atop the Moretti Tower on Wall Street. He has reinforced the building with over fifty heavily armed guards. He knows you are coming, Nathan. He expects a siege."
"I am not going to siege a building in lower Manhattan," Nathan said coldly, staring at the map of the tower. "That invites federal intervention and civilian casualties. I am going to cut off his air."
"How?" Viktor asked.
"The financial logs Thomas Brooks compiled," Nathan said, turning his head to look at me. "Elena, those files contain the private account numbers of Moretti’s offshore bankers in Zurich and Grand Cayman. If those accounts are frozen, Moretti cannot pay his mercenaries. His own men will turn on him within twelve hours."
I sat up straight, careful not to disturb Rose. "Thomas left an encrypted master key in the files. I know the algorithm he used. I can unlock the financial ledgers for you."
Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "No. I will not involve you in the digital strike. You have done enough."
"Nathan," I said, my voice ringing with a firm authority that surprised even myself. "Moretti killed my husband. He killed my twin boys. He tried to starve your daughter. Do not treat me like a fragile guest in your house. Give me a terminal."
Nathan stared at me for a long, silent moment. A rare, faint shadow of a smile touched the corner of his lips.
"Viktor," Nathan ordered softly. "Bring Mrs. Brooks a secure satellite terminal."
For the next three hours, I sat at the mahogany table, my fingers flying across the keyboard. The grief and helplessness that had paralyzed me for three months transformed into a cold, surgical focus. Thomas had taught me his encryption methods during our long evenings together in Boston; he had always said I had a better mathematical mind than his.
Line by line, I bypassed Moretti’s firewalls, unlocking the hidden sub-ledgers.
"I'm in," I announced, my heart pounding with triumph. "I’ve located the Zurich master accounts. One hundred and eighty million dollars."
Evelyn leaned over my shoulder, her eyes wide with shock. "My God. That’s his entire operating reserve."
"Transfer it," Nathan commanded, leaning over me, his hand resting on the back of my chair, his breath warm against my ear. "Reroute it to the international federal asset seizure escrow accounts. Wire the proof directly to Moretti’s private phone."
I hit Enter.
Across the ocean, millions of dollars vanished from Moretti’s empire in a fraction of a second, frozen under international anti-money-laundering warrants.
Ten minutes later, Nathan’s satellite phone buzzed on the desk.
Nathan picked it up, setting it on speakerphone.
A harsh, frantic voice erupted from the speaker, laced with background panic and shouting. "Cross! You bastard! What did you do to my accounts?!"
Nathan leaned down, his voice smooth, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy. "I took your money, Mario. Your mercenaries are currently discovering that their retainer checks have bounced. You have thirty minutes before your own men break down your office door to claim the bounty I’ve placed on your head."
"I'll kill you!" Moretti screamed hysterically. "I'll tear your life apart!"
"You tried," Nathan replied softly. "You tried to starve my daughter. You killed an innocent family in Boston. You have reached the end of your life, Mario."
Nathan ended the call, shutting the phone.
May you like
He looked down at me. For the first time since I met him on that jet, the dark, suffocating shadow in his eyes seemed to lift, replaced by an intense, burning clarity.
"Viktor," Nathan said quietly. "Prepare the cars. We go to Manhattan to collect the trash."
