Chapter 4: The Vengeance of the Underworld and Corporate Collapse
Back at the penthouse, I sat by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows holding a cup of chamomile tea, watching the glittering lights of the Manhattan skyline twinkle like a sea of diamonds far below. The heavy silk robe felt soothing against my skin, and the hot tea had finally chased away the lingering chill of the cathedral. Dante walked into the private study holding a secure satellite tablet, his suit jacket removed, revealing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing strong, tattooed forearms. He sat in the chair opposite me, setting the tablet down on the coffee table. "You might want to see this, Victoria," he said calmly, sliding the screen toward me. I picked it up. It was a live news broadcast from the steps of Sterling Industries headquarters. Reporters were swarming Nathan as federal agents marched him and his mother out of the building in handcuffs, flashing cameras capturing their utter disgrace. The chyron beneath the footage read: STERLING INDUSTRIES COLLAPSES AMID FEDERAL RAID; ASSETS FROZEN BY ORDER OF STATE PROSECUTOR.
I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat as I watched the family that had terrorized, belighted, and plotted against me get dismantled in less than three hours. "Did you... did you do all of this?" I whispered, looking up at Dante in awe and disbelief. Dante took a slow sip of his bourbon, his face impassive. "I didn't break a single law, Victoria. I merely accelerated karma. The Sterlings were dirty up to their eyeballs—laundering maritime freight fees, dodging payroll taxes, and bribing municipal inspectors. All I did was hand the ledger to the right people and call in a few business debts," he replied smoothly. "As for Nathan, he'll be facing securities fraud and conspiracy charges that will keep him behind bars for at least a decade. His mother won't survive federal prison." I set the tablet down slowly, feeling a massive, crushing weight lift off my shoulders—a weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying throughout the entire miserable engagement. For the first time in five years, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't walking on eggshells. I was entirely, beautifully free.
Dante leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes softening as he looked at me. "And what about Veronica?" I asked quietly, thinking of my former best friend. Dante’s expression turned chillingly cold for a fraction of a second before he smiled. "Veronica’s father’s shipping contracts with the Moretti syndicate were terminated thirty minutes ago. Her family is bankrupt as of four o'clock this afternoon. She won't be attending high-society galas in Manhattan ever again; she and her parents are packing their bags for a small, miserable motel in upstate New York to figure out how to pay off their debts." A strange, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips. It wasn't malice; it was pure, unadulterated justice. Dante reached across the table, his warm fingers brushing gently against the back of my hand. "You've spent years letting smaller people make you feel small, Victoria," Dante said, his voice dropping into a deep, intimate register. "It’s time you realized who you actually are. You are an artist, a curator, a brilliant mind. And starting tonight, you have the entire city at your feet."
