Chapter 14 - The House Goes Dark
Grace moved before I did.
“Pantry.”
She pulled the girls toward the reinforced safe pantry beside the kitchen.
I reached beneath my jacket.
No gun.
I had stopped carrying one around the children.
For the first time in my life, that decision terrified me.
Another shot echoed.
Glass shattered downstairs.
Security was compromised.
Vincent knew the backup systems because Luca had designed them with him.
I grabbed a locked kitchen drawer key from above the refrigerator, opened the emergency box and removed a pistol.
Olivia saw.
Her face changed.
I hated that.
“Daddy has to help the guards.”
Grace looked at me.
“Come back.”
Not a romantic request.
An instruction.
I nodded.
The pantry door closed behind them.
I moved into the corridor.
Emergency lights flickered briefly, then died again.
A figure appeared near the staircase.
I aimed.
“Boss.”
One of my guards.
“Status?”
“Three men entered through the service wing. Cameras looped before power failed.”
“Casualties?”
“Marcus is hit in the shoulder. Alive.”
“Vincent?”
“Inside.”
Of course he was.
He had spent childhood walking through houses with me.
He knew how I thought.
I knew how he did too.
He would not come simply to kill me.
He needed something.
The evidence.
Or the girls’ trust documents.
I reached the library.
The window seat was open.
Empty.
Someone had searched it.
Then a lamp clicked on.
Battery powered.
Vincent sat behind Isabelle’s desk.
A gun rested beside his hand.
“You really should have changed the emergency access architecture.”
“You really should stop entering my house uninvited.”
He smiled.
“Still funny.”
“Where are your men?”
“Busy.”
“Mine?”
“Mostly alive. I’m not here for a massacre.”
“How thoughtful.”
His face tightened.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“The company?”
“The server keys.”
“Aaron gave them to prosecutors.”
For the first time, genuine fear crossed his face.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“You would never hand our business to police.”
“Isabelle thought that too.”
That landed.
He stood.
“She ruined you.”
“No. She finally embarrassed me into becoming a father.”
“You’re letting a dead woman control you.”
“You murdered her because you couldn’t.”
His gun hand tightened.
“I didn’t shoot Isabelle.”
“You hired the man.”
“She would have destroyed everything.”
“Our family?”
“Yes.”
“You mean your theft.”
“You think this was about money?”
He laughed harshly.
“I spent my whole life behind you.”
There it was.
The oldest wound.
Our father chose me.
The crews chose me.
The legitimate boards deferred to me.
Vincent smiled, negotiated, solved problems—and remained Dominic’s younger brother.
“You got the name,” he said. “I did the work.”
“So you tried to kill me.”
“I tried to correct an inheritance.”
“Father left you millions.”
“He left me pieces.”
“He left you freedom.”
“He left you the crown.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
Carlo’s tattoo.
The crown.
A symbol Vincent apparently understood better than anyone.
“What do you want now?”
“Access to Northstar’s encryption vault.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Aaron does.”
“He’s in protective custody.”
His face shifted.
So he had not known Aaron was rescued.
“You lost.”
“No.”
He lifted the gun.
“You still have three reasons to negotiate.”
Cold traveled through me.
“If you say my daughters’ names—”
“What? You’ll kill me?”
His smile was empty.
“That’s the Dominic I know.”
I heard Isabelle’s words.
Revenge is the weapon he expects.
I lowered my gun.
Vincent blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“Not giving you what you want.”
“You think morality will protect you?”
“No.”
I placed my gun on the carpet.
“But I know you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You didn’t come here to kill me.”
“Confident.”
“You came because if I die tonight, every prosecutor in three states knows you did it. You need me frightened.”
Silence.
“You always wanted my power,” I continued. “But you never understood where it came from.”
“Fear.”
“That’s what Father taught us.”
“What else is there?”
I looked toward the door.
“People choosing not to abandon you.”
The library lights exploded on.
Vincent spun.
Luca stood in the doorway beside two Nassau County detectives and tactical officers.
Luca’s wrists were cuffed.
He had led them through the old service tunnel.
Vincent raised his gun.
I shouted, “Don’t!”
For one terrible second I thought he would fire.
Then Olivia’s voice came from the hallway.
“Uncle Vinny.”
Everyone froze.
Grace stood behind her, horrified.
Olivia had slipped out of the pantry.
Vincent looked at his niece.
She was shaking.
But she did not hide.
“You told me Daddy would die if I talked,” she said.
His face went blank.
“You lied.”
Vincent’s gun slowly lowered.
Olivia began crying.
“You made us quiet.”
That sentence defeated him more completely than any weapon could.
Police moved.
Vincent was forced to the floor and handcuffed.
He stared at me from the carpet.
“This isn’t over.”
I looked at my daughter.
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“No,” I said.
“It finally started.”
