Chapter 8 - Unmasked Traitor
Frank Lombardi stepped into the nursery.
He was holding an automatic shotgun, his face lit by the hallway emergency lights. His custom suit was splattered with blood, his eyes wild and desperate. He knew the police were already responding to the automated distress signal my house system had sent out minutes ago. He had minutes left before the estate was surrounded by federal authorities.
"Get away from the kids, Dominic," Frank growled, raising the heavy barrel of the shotgun directly toward my chest.
I stood up slowly, placing my body completely between Frank's weapon and my daughters. Elena quickly ushered the three girls into the attached bathroom, locking the interior door behind them.
"Fourteen years, Frank," I said, my voice dangerously low, stepping forward so he couldn't aim past me. "I treated you like a brother. I gave you a seat at my table. I trusted you with my wife and children."
"And you grew soft!" Frank snarled, his grip tightening on the shotgun. "You got rich, you bought this pristine estate on Long Island, and you started talking about 'legitimate investments'! You were abandoning the family business that made us! Isabella was convincing you to sell off the routes!"
"Isabella was trying to protect this family from ending up in a federal prison or a grave!" I barked. "You killed her because you were greedy!"
"I killed her because she was weak!" Frank shrieked. "And Mateo Vance was a rat who thought he could hide ledgers in offshore databases! I built half of this empire while you were playing doting husband, Dominic! It belonged to me!"
"You didn't build anything, Frank," I said, taking another slow step toward him, completely ignoring the shotgun pointed at my heart. "You just fed off the scraps I dropped from my table."
Frank’s face twisted in pure rage. "Say goodbye to your girls, boss."
He pulled the trigger.
CLICK.
Nothing happened.
Frank’s eyes widened in sheer panic. He racked the slide violently and pulled the trigger again.
CLICK.
I smiled—a cold, terrifying smile that sent a shiver straight down his spine.
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"Did you really think I didn't know you modified your personal shotgun with our smart-link security chips six months ago, Frank?" I asked softly, holding up my wrist tablet. "The moment you initiated the house lockdown, my master administrative override revoked your weapon's firing authorization."
Frank dropped the useless shotgun and reached for the knife at his belt, but I was already moving.
