Chapter 10 - The Traitor Revealed
Vincent reacted in a fraction of a second. Shoving Emma behind him, he pulled a small concealed firearm from beneath his tuxedo jacket and kicked the terrace doors open.
On the stone patio, Marcus was wrestling a man to the ground. A dropped server's tray lay overturned, alongside a broken vial of amber liquid that fizzed ominously against the wet flagstones.
“Sir! We caught him!” Marcus shouted, pinning the suspect’s arms behind his back.
Vincent stepped forward, his eyes blazing. The man on the ground was Julian Vance—the young, trusted vice president of Moretti Logistics, and the godson of Isabella herself.
“Julian?” Vincent growled, his voice trembling with sheer betrayal. “You?”
Julian spit blood onto the patio, his handsome face twisted into an ugly, bitter sneer. “You think your mother deserved everything she had, Vincent? My father died in your family’s factories! You gave us scraps while your mother bought diamonds and threw lavish parties!”
“She treated you like a son!” Vincent roared, stepping forward, his hands trembling with fury.
“And Arthur Sterling gave me twenty million dollars to end her miserable life!” Julian spat. “That vial was meant for her late-night tea. If it wasn’t for that meddling little waitress ruining the setup at the hotel, Isabella would already be declared mentally incompetent and Sterling would own the logistics grid!”
Emma stood in the doorway, horrified. The entire conspiracy—from the ballroom humiliation to the poison—was orchestrated by someone Isabella had trusted for over twenty years.
“Take him away,” Vincent whispered, his voice turning deadly cold. “Lock him in the subterranean vaults until the federal prosecutors arrive. And call the FBI. Tell them Arthur Sterling violated his bail conditions.”
Marcus dragged the screaming traitor down the service stairs into the night.
The terrace fell into dead silence once more. The cold lake wind whipped around them. Vincent stood frozen, looking at the broken vial of poison, the burden of his empire crashing down on his shoulders.
Emma didn't hesitate. Ignoring every boundary of class, etiquette, and caution, she stepped across the terrace and wrapped her arms tightly around Vincent’s waist, burying her face into his chest.
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Vincent stiffened for a second in shock. Then, with a ragged breath that sounded like a breaking dam, he wrapped his powerful arms around her, pulling her close against him as if she were the only anchor keeping him from drowning.
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