Chapter 14 - The poisoned inheritance
Marcus stepped out onto the wide stone portico, flanked by six armed snipers perched silently along the roofline. Grace walked beside him, refusing to stay hidden in the panic room while another threat hovered over the family she had fought so hard to rebuild.
Salvatore Moretti stood beside the lead SUV, a tall man with silver-streaked hair, wearing a tailored cashmere coat and leaning on a gold-headed cane. Behind him stood a dozen heavily armed mercenaries, their rifles aimed at the entryway. Yet Salvatore’s eyes locked entirely onto Grace, widening with eerie fascination as he took in her striking resemblance to Julianna.
"Incredible," Salvatore sneered, tapping his cane against the driveway gravel. "Julianna hid you well. For four years, I searched every corner of Europe, thinking my dear niece had taken the family vault codes to her grave. But blood always finds its way home."
"You took everything from her," Grace said, stepping to the edge of the terrace stairs, her posture regal and fearless. "You poisoned Julianna, didn't you? Her illness was never natural. She withered away over six months while you took over the syndicate ports in Genoa."
A sinister smile played on Salvatore’s thin lips. "My dear niece was too soft. She fell in love with an American boss and tried to turn our syndicate into a legitimate shipping enterprise. She was weak, just like your father. But she was clever enough to lock down the family treasury before she expired."
"You are standing on my territory, Salvatore," Marcus intervened, his voice vibrating with absolute authority as laser sights from the rooftop painted crimson dots across Salvatore’s chest. "You stepped onto my land uninvited. You have thirty seconds to turn your convoy around, or your body will be fed to the sharks in the bay."
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Salvatore did not flinch. Instead, he raised a gloved hand and snapped his fingers. The rear door of the second SUV opened, and two guards hauled out a disheveled woman bound in heavy chains. When she raised her bruised face, Grace gasped.
It was Elena, the disgraced heiress who had slapped Grace a year ago, her designer clothes shredded, her face pale with terror.
