Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Estate
The Range Rover sped through the misty, winding back roads of County Clare, leaving the airport far behind. Rain lashed against the armored glass. Evelyn sat in the back seat between two imposing men who remained completely silent, their hands resting near their jacket lapels.
They arrived at an old, isolated stone manor surrounded by high iron gates and dense woodland. Security cameras blinked red through the rain. Armed men in dark coats patrolled the gravel driveway with Belgian Malinois hounds. It was a fortress disguised as an Irish country estate.
Inside, the house was warm, smelling of peat smoke, old leather, and polished mahogany. Evelyn was led to a grand library on the ground floor, where a roaring fireplace crackled against the chill.
Standing by the window, gazing out into the dark gardens, was Antonio Vitelli.
He was no longer wearing his travel suit. He wore a heavy charcoal sweater and black trousers. Though his face was still slightly pale and a dark shadow hung under his eyes, his posture was imposing, powerful, and absolute.
"Leave us," Antonio commanded without turning around.
Marco bowed his head slightly and signaled the guards out, shutting the thick oak doors behind them.
Evelyn stood near the center of the Persian rug, clutching her navy handbag like a shield. "You should be in a hospital."
Antonio turned slowly. His gray-green eyes swept over her, taking in her rumpled uniform, her tired posture, and the quiet determination in her eyes. "Hospitals are public spaces, Dr. Foster. Public spaces are hunting grounds."
"I told your man, I'm not a doctor."
"You saved my life with more cold precision than the pediatrician who couldn't keep his hands from shaking," Antonio said, walking over to a side table and pouring two glasses of amber liquid. He held one out to her. "Irish whiskey. You look like you need it."
Evelyn hesitated, then accepted the glass. The warmth of the glass soothed her frozen fingers. "Why am I here, Mr. Vitelli? Marco said my life is in danger because I saved you."
"Your life is in danger because of who tried to kill me," Antonio corrected her, taking a small sip of his drink. "The Vitelli family controls the maritime logistics from New York to Naples. My uncle, Leo Vitelli, believes I am too soft because I prefer balance sheets and legitimate real estate to street war. He wants control of the family trust."
"Your own uncle?" Evelyn swallowed hard.
"Family in my world is not about blood," Antonio said coldly. "It is about leverage. Leo knew I was flying to Rome for a commission board meeting. He bribed someone in my private security detail at JFK to swap my medical kit. If I died of an apparent cardiac arrest at thirty-seven thousand feet, over international waters, there would be no immediate autopsy. By the time the plane landed in Italy, Leo would have seized the family assets."
"And I ruined his timeline," Evelyn realized, the cold reality settling in her stomach.
"You exposed the poison," Antonio said, stepping closer. He was tall, intimidating, yet his tone carried a terrifying quietness. "The Irish authorities have already seized the tampered auto-injector. Leo knows the hit failed. And he knows a sharp-eyed flight attendant stopped it."
"So what happens to me?" Evelyn asked, holding his gaze. "I have a life in Chicago. I have a sister. I have a job."
"Your job with the airline is over," Antonio said bluntly. "If you board a commercial flight tomorrow, you won't make it to your layover. Until I eliminate Leo and secure my family, you remain under my protection."
"I don't want your protection!" Evelyn flared up, anger suddenly breaking through her fear. "I didn't ask to get dragged into your mob war! I was just doing my job!"
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Antonio stared at her, unblinking. "And you did it flawlessly. Which is why you are still breathing. Tomorrow morning, we leave for Rome."
Before Evelyn could object, the library window shattered outward in a cascade of flying glass, followed by the terrifying, deafening crack of a high-powered rifle shot.
