Chapter 7 - The Trap is Sprung
Three days of absolute silence followed Salvatore’s visit.
The estate was sealed like a medieval fortress. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter twenty-four hours a day, the iron gates remained locked, and no deliveries were accepted without being thoroughly inspected in the security bunker.
Inside the mansion, however, life had never felt more alive. With Isabella completely pulled out of her shell, the west wing echoed with genuine laughter for the first time in years. She and Emma played house in the nursery, built elaborate blanket forts in the library, and even convinced Margaret to teach them how to bake chocolate chip cookies in the sprawling professional kitchen.
Sophia worked alongside Margaret, but her eyes constantly scanned the staff. Viktor had initiated a quiet, thorough internal investigation, tasking Marcus with reviewing security logs, phone records, and financial accounts for every single employee in the mansion.
On Friday night, at 11:45 PM, the trap finally sprung.
Sophia was in her suite when a sharp, coded knock sounded at her door. She opened it to find Marcus standing in the dimly lit hallway, his hand resting casually on his holster, his face carved from stone.
"Boss wants you and the girl in the security vault," Marcus said quietly. "Now."
"Is something happening?" Sophia asked, her heart dropping into her stomach.
"We found the leak," Marcus replied grimly. "And Salvatore is making his move."
Sophia woke Emma gently, wrapping her in a warm blanket, and followed Marcus down a private elevator that descended deep into the subterranean levels of the estate.
The security vault was a reinforced concrete bunker filled with banks of monitors displaying every corner of the mansion and its grounds. Viktor stood in the center of the room, illuminated by the cold blue glow of the screens. He wore a dark tactical turtleneck, a holster strapped across his chest, carrying an automatic rifle with cold, practiced ease.
Sitting in the corner of the room, looking pale and confused, was old Margaret, flanked by two armed enforcers.
Sophia gasped, stopping near the doorway. "Margaret? No... it can't be."
"It isn't Margaret," Viktor said, his voice flat and deadly as he turned to face them.
Viktor raised his rifle and pointed the barrel not at Margaret, but at a young, fresh-faced security guard standing near the master control console—a man named David who had worked at the estate for less than a year.
David’s face drained of all color. He backed away against the console, his hands trembling violently. "Mr. Moretti... what—what are you doing? I’m loyal!"
"You're a lot of things, David, but loyal isn't one of them," Viktor said, his gray eyes narrowing. "You took fifty thousand dollars from Salvatore’s offshore account to slip my daughter’s schedule through the north gate. And tonight, you disabled the perimeter sensors in Sector Four to let his strike team walk right into the courtyard."
David swallowed hard, panic flashing in his eyes. He suddenly lunged for a concealed panic button on the underside of the console.
Before his finger could press it, a deafening crack echoed through the bunker.
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Marcus’s pistol fired with clinical precision. David let out a choked gasp, clutched his shoulder, and collapsed onto the concrete floor, screaming in agony as blood pooled around his arm.
"Tie him up and throw him in the lower holding cells," Viktor ordered without raising his voice. "We have company upstairs."
