Chapter 17 - The Blood Price
Liam slowly lowered his weapon, kicking it across the polished parquet floor.
"Who are you?" Liam spat, keeping himself between the armed man and the staircase where I stood clutching Lila.
"My name is Donato Rossi," the man replied, tucking his silver watch into his vest pocket. "For thirty years, my family’s shipping lines in Genoa shared a mutual understanding with Charles Morrison Senior. We laundered their surplus capital; they provided diplomatic maritime clearance across American ports."
Donato stepped forward, his leather shoes clicking softly.
"Then, eight years ago, this little American parasite—Victoria—seduced my younger brother, transferred forty million euros out of our escrow accounts in Zurich, and fled under a fake passport. She told my brother she was pregnant with his child."
My breath caught in my throat. His brother’s child.
"Julian isn't a Morrison at all," I called out from the stairs, my voice ringing clear through the foyer.
Donato looked up at me, tipping his head slightly in respectful acknowledgment. "No, signora. Julian is my nephew. A Rossi by blood, poisoned by a treacherous mother who used him as a human shield."
"If you know the boy is your nephew, why are you attacking my home?" I challenged him, holding Lila tight. "I have no connection to Victoria. I stripped the Morrisons of their power because they were criminals. I am the one who sent Diane to prison!"
Donato sighed, a weary, dangerous sound.
"Because, signora, Victoria filed a legally binding probate claim against your foundation. Under American law, that claim holds fifty million dollars of your liquid equity in escrow. This morning, Victoria contacted my associates in Manhattan. She offered to assign the entire legal claim to my family in exchange for safe passage to Argentina."
"She’s selling you stolen air," Liam snarled. "The claim is based on forged genetic records! The moment our forensic accountants present the Colombian autopsy files, that claim becomes a federal felony!"
Donato’s eyes chilled. "Perhaps. But an American court takes six months to verify foreign autopsy documents. My family operates on a timeline of hours, not months. I do not have time for your sluggish judges. Victoria wants fifty million. I want my nephew. And you... you want to keep your family alive."
May you like
Donato pulled a thick legal assignment deed from his coat pocket and tossed it onto the stairs at my feet.
"Sign the immediate fifty-million-dollar wire transfer authorization to our escrow account in Rome. You have fifteen minutes. If the funds do not clear, your loyal butler downstairs dies first. Then your husband. And I take this beautiful mansion as collateral."
