Chapter 4 - The Reckoning in the BayThe lower vehicle bay of the Rossi estate was cold, damp, and smelled of motor oil and old concrete.
Lawrence Hastings sat tied securely to a heavy metal chair, his expensive Italian suit rumpled, his gray hair disheveled, and a nasty bruise blooming across his left cheekbone where Mateo had introduced him to a concrete pillar.
When the heavy steel doors of the bay opened, the harsh overhead fluorescent lights flickered to life.
Damen Rossi walked in, his tall, imposing frame casting a long shadow across the floor. He didn't run. He didn't shout. He walked with the slow, measured pace of an executioner.
Lawrence lifted his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and lingering arrogance. "Damen! Thank God. Look, there's been a mistake. My men—your guards—they dragged me out of my home. We’re family now! We have a deal!"
Damen stopped two feet away from the chair. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the thick manila folder Mateo had retrieved from the wall safe, and dropped it onto Lawrence’s lap with a heavy thud.
Lawrence looked down at the folder. The color drained entirely from his face, leaving his skin a sickly, gray hue.
"You kept a journal, Lawrence," Damen said, his voice dangerously soft. "A complete, itemized log of every time you raised your hand against Cheyenne. Every belt, every switch, every excuse you invented to justify torturing a child."
"It... it was discipline!" Lawrence stammered, thrashing against the ropes binding his chest. "She was disobedient! She needed to learn her place! As her father, I had the right—"
Crack.
Damen’s fist connected with Lawrence’s jaw with the force of a wrecking ball.
Lawrence screamed, his head snapping to the side, blood spraying from his split lip as the chair tilted dangerously before slamming back onto all four legs.
"You had no rights," Damen snarled, leaning down until his face was inches from the terrified older man. "You had a daughter who survived your brutality while you gambled away her life. And tonight, you traded her to me like a piece of livestock to save your own skin."
Lawrence breathed heavily, spitting blood onto the concrete. "What... what are you going to do with me? Kill me?"
"Killing you would be a mercy," Damen said, standing upright and straightening his cuffs. "Federal indictments for embezzlement, racketeering, and corporate fraud are already being delivered to the New York District Attorney’s office, backed by every financial document your safe contained. By morning, your assets will be entirely seized, your accounts frozen, and your name erased from every board of directors in the country."
May you like
Lawrence’s eyes bulged. "You can't! You'll ruin me! I'll spend the rest of my life in a federal penitentiary!"
"No," Damen corrected coldly, turning toward the exit. "You will spend the rest of your life in a maximum-security prison cell where the inmates know exactly what kind of coward you are. Mateo, lock him up and ship him out before dawn."
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