Chapter 2 - Bullets, Bloodlines, and the Discovery of the Viscari VaultThe second wave of automatic gunfire shredded the wainscoting of the private dining room, sending splinters of cherrywood and plaster raining down over Alina’s back.
Roman didn't flinch. His left arm remained locked around her shoulders, shielding her skull, while his right hand pulled a heavy, matte-black Glock 19 from his waist holster with the terrifying, fluid speed of a man whose daily routine involved lethal calculation.
"They're using suppressed sub-machine guns," Roman muttered, his voice cold, stripped of every ounce of domestic warmth. "Standard corporate cleanup gear. My father didn't send street muscle. He sent his internal security detail."
Alina kept her eyes locked on his face, her breath coming in shallow, controlled gasps. Fear was a cold weight in her chest, but beneath it burned something sharper: incandescent rage.
"They aren't trying to scare me, Roman," she whispered over the pop of another round cracking against the exterior brickwork. "They came here to kill me. Because if I die before the post-birth provisions take effect, my properties automatically revert to my spouse—which means your father's shell company inherits them through your marriage certificate."
Roman’s jaw locked. A muscle ticked violently beneath his left eye. The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow—his own father had engineered a scenario where his wife’s murder would enrich his family's syndicate.
"Not on my life," Roman snarled.
He keyed the comms unit clipped inside his collar. "Pierce. Sector four. I want every alleyway sealed. If anyone wearing a Viscari crest crosses Superior Street, drop them."
"Boss, the shooters are withdrawing—they're pulling back to a black transit van," Pierce’s voice crackled back through the earpiece. "They aren't trying to breach; they just wanted to send a message."
"They didn't send a message," Roman said quietly, his eyes fixed on the bullet holes riddling the wall where Alina had been standing three minutes ago. "They left a declaration of war."
He holstered his weapon and turned his full, undivided attention to his wife. His large hands gripped her shoulders gently, searching her body for any sign of injury. "Alina. Are you hit? Did any glass—"
"Don't touch me," she said, her voice like broken ice.
She batted his hands away, pushing herself up from the floor with a dignity that made Roman look like the one who had been brought to his knees. She brushed the plaster dust from the green velvet dress—the dress she had worn to celebrate a marriage that had apparently been a hostile corporate takeover from day one.
"Alina, listen to me—"
"No, Roman, you listen to me," she interrupted, stepping over a mound of shattered glass. "Your father thinks I'm a helpless pregnant widow sitting ducks in a restaurant. He thinks he can forge my name, send hit squads to my grandmother's legacy, and treat my life like a footnote in a real estate ledger."
She walked over to the scarred wooden table, picked up the notarized copies of her grandmother's trust documents, and slid them into her leather handbag with absolute composure.
"Where are you going?" Roman demanded, rising to his feet and blocking her path toward the kitchen service exit.
"Away from you," she said coldly.
"You think you're safe out there alone? My father's men are hunting anyone connected to the Moretti estate."
"I am not alone, Roman. Dana Reyes and Marco Bellini already have encrypted digital copies of every file in my grandmother's drawer. If I stop breathing before midnight, an entire federal task force receives a complete forensic breakdown of every shell company the Viscari family has used to launder money through downtown Chicago for the past decade. Your father knows that. That's why he's panicking."
Roman stared at her, and for the first time since they had met, true awe flickered behind his slate-gray eyes. He had married a woman he thought was the quiet, graceful heart of his domestic life, only to discover she was a master strategist who had anticipated his family's betrayal before he had even connected the dots.
May you like
"You're going after the Viscari vault," Roman stated flatly.
"I'm going to reclaim what your family stole," Alina corrected. "And you can either help me burn your father's empire to the ground, or you can stand in my way and become collateral damage."
Related Stories
