Chapter 5 - The Confrontation at the Gate
A light snow was falling over the Hudson estate, dusting the long, winding gravel driveway in a fresh layer of white.
At the main wrought-iron gates, three dark-grey armored Escalades idling under the tall stone pillars were blocking the entrance. Six men in heavy tactical coats stood near the vehicles, their hands resting on concealed submachine guns.
Standing in front of the center SUV was Angelo Moretti—thirty-four years old, flashy, arrogant, wearing a three-thousand-dollar shearling coat and a gold watch that caught the moonlight. He was chewing on an unlit cigar, tapping his leather boot impatiently against the snow.
The heavy iron gates groaned as they electronically swung open.
Dominic walked out alone through the snow, flanked only by Marco and Leo stepping out from the security booth behind him. Dominic carried no visible weapon, his hands resting casually inside the pockets of his black cashmere overcoat.
"Dominic!" Angelo sneered, stepping forward with a smirk that didn't reach his cold eyes. "What's with the security lockdown? I’ve been waiting out here in the cold for twenty minutes. Whitfield usually opens the gate the second my car hits the sensor."
Dominic stopped five feet away from Angelo, the snow crunching softly under his polished shoes. The temperature between the two men felt colder than the winter air.
"Whitfield is unavailable tonight, Angelo," Dominic said smoothly. "In fact, he's going to be unavailable for the rest of his life."
Angelo’s smirk faltered for a second, his eyes darting toward the main house. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about forty million dollars," Dominic replied, his voice calm, flat, and terrifying. "I'm talking about nine years of offshore transfers to Veritas Holdings. And I'm talking about a bottle of cyanide left in my carriage house."
The men behind Angelo shifted uncomfortably, their hands moving closer to their holsters.
Angelo straightened his posture, trying to maintain his arrogant stance, but a flicker of panic showed in his eyes. "You're talking nonsense, Castellano. We have a peace treaty. Signed by your father and mine twelve years ago."
"The treaty protected your territory, Angelo," Dominic stepped closer, towering over the younger Moretti with an imposing presence. "It did not give you permission to bleed my estate, poison my staff, or threaten a four-year-old child under my roof."
Angelo let out a harsh, nervous laugh. "A maid? You're raising a war over a damn maid and a disgraced butler? Have you gone soft in your old age, Dominic?"
CRACK!
Before Angelo’s men could react, Dominic’s right hand flew out like a striking viper. He grabbed Angelo by the shearling collar, drove his knee violently into the younger man's sternum, and spun him around, drawing a hidden snub-nosed revolver from his belt and pressing the cold steel barrel directly against Angelo’s temple.
"Don't move!" Marco screamed, drawing his own weapon and aiming it directly at the Moretti bodyguards.
The six bodyguards instantly pulled their submachine guns, aiming them at Dominic, but five red laser dots suddenly appeared on their chests. High above in the stone towers of the estate, Dominic’s snipers had their crosshairs locked onto every single Moretti operative.
"Tell your dogs to drop their weapons, Angelo," Dominic whispered coldly into Angelo’s ear, the steel barrel pressing hard enough to bruise the skin. "Or your father will be picking up your pieces off my driveway."
Angelo was gasping for air, his face pale with horror as he looked at the red laser dots dancing across his men's coats. "Drop... drop the guns!" he wheezed out frantically. "Drop them now!"
The bodyguards hesitated for a second, then lowered their weapons, setting them down on the snowy gravel.
Dominic leaned in close to Angelo’s ear, his voice dropping into a terrifying growl. "Go back to Queens, Angelo. Tell your father that Valentin Moretti has twenty-four hours to wire back every dollar stolen from the Castellano accounts, plus interest. And tell him if I see a single Moretti soldier on this side of the Hudson River ever again, I won't just wage war. I will extinguish your entire bloodline."
Dominic shoved Angelo forward into the snow. Angelo scrambled to his feet, terrified, coughing and clutching his chest as his men dragged him back into the Escalade.
The SUVs reversed frantically down the winding road, their tires kicking up gravel and snow as they fled into the night.
May you like
Dominic stood at the gate, watching the red taillights vanish into the darkness. He holstered his gun, wiped a fleck of snow from his sleeve, and turned to Marco.
"Call the bank trustees in Zurich," Dominic ordered coldly. "Freeze every account tied to Veritas Holdings before sunrise. We're cutting off their air."
