Chapter 4 - THE CONFESSION UNDER FIRENicholas began to shake uncontrollably. The veneer of aristocratic sophistication fell away, exposing the pathetic, desperate creature beneath. He looked at the armed guards, then at his terrified relatives, and finally at Roman’s cold, unblinking eyes.
With trembling fingers, Nicholas twisted the mother-of-pearl cufflink. It unscrewed with a tiny click, revealing a microscopic USB-C connector embedded in the platinum base.
“Drop it on the table,” Roman commanded.
Nicholas let the device fall onto the marble coffee table. It landed with a hollow, metallic chime that sounded like a death knell.
Hannah stepped forward, picked up the miniature drive, and inserted it into an adapter connected to her tablet. Within three seconds, the room’s dual fifty-inch projection screens flickered to life, displaying a cascade of bank statements, encrypted email exchanges with federal agents, and forged balance sheets bearing Nicholas’s digital signature.
On the screen was an email dated December 18th:
From: [email protected]
Subject: Operation Iron Gate - Final Wire Authorization
The eight million transfer will be initiated during the Christmas Eve dinner under Hannah Duca’s credentials. Once the funds hit Orion Holdings, initiate the arrest warrants for Roman Duca and the seizure of the foundation’s assets. Confirm my non-prosecution agreement.
The silence in the grand salon was absolute.
Uncle Julian buried his face in his hands. Victoria let out a quiet whimper of horror. Bianca stood frozen, staring at the screen as if looking at a ghost. The entire legacy she had spent forty years building—the foundation she guarded like a religious relic—had been weaponized by her favorite nephew to utterly annihilate her son.
“You bastard,” Bianca whispered, her voice cracking with raw, unadulterated shock. “You were going to send Roman to prison? You were going to destroy your own family?”
“You never gave a damn about me!” Nicholas suddenly screamed, his composure shattering into unhinged fury. He pointed an accusatory finger at Roman. “Everything went to Roman! The shipping lines, the real estate, the respect! I slaved over your boring, pathetic charity foundation for ten years while he walked into boardrooms like a king! I lost everything in Macau because I was trying to build an empire of my own! Why should I go to prison while Roman sits on billions?”
He lunged forward, grabbing a heavy brass fire poker from the hearth, his face twisted in madness. “If I’m going down, I’m taking this whole rotten family with—”
He never finished the sentence.
Roman moved with blinding speed. Before Nicholas could raise the brass rod, Roman’s left hand caught Nicholas by the throat, slamming him backward into the stone fireplace with a concussive thud that cracked the mortar. The fire poker clattered harmlessly onto the hearth.
Roman’s grip closed like an iron vice. Nicholas’s feet lifted two inches off the parquet floor, his hands frantically clawing at Roman’s forearm as his face turned a mottled shade of violet.
“Roman, don't!” Hannah called out, her voice calm and authoritative.
Roman didn't turn around, but his hand stopped squeezing. “He threatened this family, Hannah. He tried to destroy you.”
“And he failed,” Hannah said, walking up beside her husband. She laid a gentle, steadying hand on Roman’s broad shoulder. “If you kill him in this room, you give the prosecutors the exact violent spectacle they’ve been praying for. Look at the clock, Roman. It’s 9:58 PM.”
Roman held Nicholas suspended for three more agonizing seconds, letting the terrified traitor contemplate the absolute fragility of his life, before dropping him unceremoniously to the floor in a coughing, weeping heap.
“Marco,” Roman said without looking down.
“Yes, boss?”
May you like
“Take this garbage to the wine cellar. Lock him in the vault until the storm clears. Tomorrow morning, he gets delivered directly to the United States Attorney’s office along with every piece of data on that drive. Let him spend the next twenty-five years explaining to a federal judge why he forged government affidavits.”
The two security guards hauled Nicholas up by his armpits, dragging his limp, sobbing form out of the grand salon as the double doors slammed shut behind them.
Related Stories
