Chapter 7 - The Confrontation in the Dark
At 10:30 p.m., three black sedans pulled quietly onto the gravel driveway of the Romano estate, their headlights turned off.
The heavy iron gates stood wide open, swinging gently in the cold autumn wind.
Salvatore Moretti stepped out of the lead vehicle, wearing a heavy leather coat and a fedora. He was accompanied by six heavily armed mercenaries carrying silenced submachine guns.
“Quietly,” Salvatore instructed his men in a low whisper. “We take the safe in the study, clear the security hard drives, and then we go to the clinic to finish him off.”
The front oak doors of the mansion were unlocked.
Salvatore sneered, pushing the heavy door open and stepping into the grand foyer. The marble floors were dark, illuminated only by the faint silver moonlight streaming through the high windows.
“Check the study,” Salvatore ordered two of his men.
The mercenaries crept down the hallway toward the study, their weapons raised.
Suddenly, a bright, blinding flash of light illuminated the entire foyer!
Massive floodlights positioned on the upper balcony clicked on, bathing Salvatore and his men in harsh, exposure light!
“Drop your weapons!” a booming voice echoed from above.
Salvatore shielded his eyes, gasping as he saw twelve Romano soldiers lining the second-floor banister, their rifles pointed directly down at his group!
At the top of the grand staircase, stepping out from the shadows, stood Don Gabriel Romano.
I was fully dressed in my dark gray suit, holding a tumbler of scotch in my left hand, completely healthy, untouched, and cold as ice.
Salvatore’s mouth fell open. His face turned as pale as a bedsheet.
“G-Gabriel?” Salvatore stammered, taking a staggering step backward. “You… you’re alive?”
“Disappointed, Uncle?” I asked, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet marble hall. “You thought a few blue pills in my butter would end thirty years of Romano rule?”
Salvatore’s eyes darted frantically around the foyer, realizing he had walked straight into a kill box. His six mercenaries immediately raised their hands, dropping their weapons onto the marble floor with loud metallic clatters.
“Don't shoot!” one of the mercenaries yelled. “We were just hired for security! We don't want a war with the Romano family!”
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“Smart men,” I said smoothly. “Matteo, disarm them and take them outside.”
Within seconds, Salvatore’s guards were disarmed and dragged out through the front doors, leaving my uncle standing alone in the center of the grand foyer, trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind.
