Chapter 7 - The Mastermind’s Trap
With Bianca’s public reputation thoroughly destroyed, the state prosecutor's office accelerated its criminal case against Arthur Pendelton and Bianca Sterling.
However, Arthur was a seasoned corporate player. Knowing he faced up to fifteen years in federal prison for conspiracy and financial fraud, he initiated a secret backup plan to force Alessandro to drop the charges.
Two weeks before the preliminary trial date, Rosalie was driving home from the grocery store along the scenic coastal highway near the estate.
A heavy black SUV suddenly pulled out from a side road, tailgating her vintage sedan aggressively. Rosalie sped up, her heart pounding, but the black SUV swiped her rear bumper, sending her car skidding off the wet asphalt and into a gravel embankment.
Before Rosalie could recover, two men in dark clothes stepped out of the SUV, smashed her driver’s side window, and grabbed her purse and phone, leaving her bruised and terrified in the wrecked car.
An hour later, Alessandro received an anonymous text message containing a photo of Rosalie’s bloody hand resting against her steering wheel.
Below the photo was a simple message: Drop the criminal charges against Arthur Pendelton by midnight, or the next accident will involve your daughter’s school bus.
Alessandro’s blood ran cold. The sheer audacity of Arthur’s desperation had finally crossed into domestic terrorism.
Instead of panicking, Alessandro called Marcus Vance and his head of private security, Captain Vance Miller, a former elite military commander.
Within twenty minutes, Miller’s tactical team arrived at the estate study, setting up satellite tracking gear and encrypted communication lines.
“He’s backed into a corner, Alessandro,” Captain Miller explained, pointing to a digital map of the county. “Arthur knows that if he goes to trial, his financial empire vanishes. He’s using fear tactics because he has nothing left to lose.”
“Where is Rosalie?” Alessandro asked, his voice dead calm.
“We tracked her phone’s last ping to a private marina five miles south,” Miller replied. “She’s safe—a passing motorist picked her up and took her to the emergency clinic. She has minor cuts, but she’s stable.”
Alessandro let out a slow breath of relief. “Good. Now we hunt Arthur.”
“What’s your plan?” Marcus asked nervously. “If we report the threat to the local police, Arthur might flee the country on his private yacht.”
“We don't report it to the police,” Alessandro said, his eyes narrowing into cold, tactical slits. “We give Arthur exactly what he wants. We set up a private meeting to sign the non-disclosure agreements and liability waivers.”
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“You’re going to meet him?”
“I’m going to trap him,” Alessandro corrected. “Arthur thinks I’m a grieving businessman who can be bullied into submission. He forgot that before I took over my father’s corporate empire, I spent five years managing security logistics in high-risk foreign markets. He wants a confrontation? I’ll give him one he won't survive.”
