Chapter 3 - The Purge of the West SideThe confrontation at the gatehouse ended without a single shot fired by the Moretti syndicate.
Terrified by the sheer, overwhelming military dominance of the Vance organization, Anthony Moretti and his hitmen surrendered their weapons, kneeling flat on the freezing cobblestones with their hands locked behind their heads.
Arthur Miller tried to scramble back into his pickup truck, but Marcus Vance—Elias’s chief security officer—caught him by his leather collar, dragging him across the icy pavement, slamming him flat against the hood of Elias’s armored SUV.
"NO! PLEASE! ELIAS! MERCY!" Arthur shrieking hysterically, blood dripping from his nose as he wept into the freezing steel. "I WAS WRONG! TAKE THE GIRLS! TAKE AVA! JUST LET ME LEAVE THE CITY!"
Elias walked down the grand stone steps of the mansion, his heavy leather dress boots clicking sharply against the pavement.
He stopped two inches from where Arthur lay pinned against the SUV.
He didn't hit him. He didn't raise his voice. He looked at the small, pathetic man who had beaten my back and thrown my newborn daughters into the snow.
Elias pulled a fountain pen from his suit jacket, opening a thick leather binder held by senior corporate litigator Bridget Colton.
"Arthur," Elias spoke softly, his baritone cold as death. "You are going to sign these legal surrender documents."
Arthur wept, his teeth chattering. "W-what is it...?"
"1. FULL ANNULMENT: Immediate, total dissolution of your marriage to Ava Miller based on gross domestic abuse and attempted murder," Elias read flatly. "2. PARENTAL SURRENDER: Complete, permanent termination of all parental rights to Lily and Grace Vance." "3. FINANCIAL FORFEITURE: Seizure of every illegal gambling den, bookmaking network, and real estate asset registered under your name, transferred directly into an irrevocable trust for Ava and her daughters."
"I'll sign! I'll sign everything!" Arthur wept, snatching the pen with his trembling hand, scribbling his signature across the gold-sealed lines.
Elias took the binder back, handing it directly to Bridget Colton.
Then he looked at Marcus Vance.
"Marcus," Elias commanded.
"Yes, Don Elias?"
"Deliver Arthur Miller to the Federal District Attorney’s office in Brooklyn," Elias ordered. "Hand over the forensic medical reports of Ava’s injuries and the eyewitness statements from the bridge. Make sure he receives thirty years in a maximum-security federal facility."
"Right away, Boss," Marcus replied, locking heavy steel handcuffs around Arthur’s wrists.
Arthur shrieking groveling pleas as federal marshals dragged him out of the courtyard in total, public disgrace.
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Elias turned around, walking back up the stone steps toward where I stood on the balcony holding our twin girls. He reached out, his large, warm hand wrapping gently around my waist, pulling me and my daughters into his solid, protective embrace under the clearing winter sky.
"You are safe now, Ava," Elias promised, his voice thick with absolute, unyielding devotion. "Nobody will ever hurt you or our daughters again."
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