Chapter 12 - Facing the Syndicate Alone
Voss Manor was surrounded by over fifty armed guards.
Inside the grand ballroom, where portraits of my ancestors lined the wood-paneled walls, over a hundred underworld figures, capos, and regional bosses were gathered to swear allegiance to Damian Voss.
Damian stood at the marble altar at the front of the hall, wearing a custom white suit, holding a ceremonial gold ring.
“Brothers,” Damian announced, his voice echoing through the acoustic hall. “My nephew Adrien fought bravely, but he was seduced by the daughter of a traitor. Both have perished in the mountains of Europe. Today, we unite under a single banner. I ask for your loyalty!”
Before anyone could applaud, the heavy oak doors of the grand hall blew off their hinges with a thunderous blast.
Smoke poured into the room.
Through the mist and shattered wood, I walked into the ballroom.
Beside me walked Evelyn Vance, dressed in a sleek black gown, holding the steel briefcase containing the original ledgers.
Behind us stood Dante and forty loyal Voss commandos, their weapons trained on the stunned crowd.
“Adrien!” Marcus Castillo gasped, stumbling backward.
The room erupted into shouts of disbelief and terror. Several capos reached for their weapons, but my commandos leveled their rifles, freezing the entire room in place.
“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” I said, my voice cutting through the room like a razor.
Damian’s face turned an ugly shade of ash. “Traitor! You dare bring Julian Vance’s bloodline into this sacred house? Guards, execute them!”
Not a single guard moved.
Evelyn stepped forward, her voice ringing out with absolute clarity and authority.
“I am Evelyn Vance,” she said, placing the briefcase on the center table and popping the locks. “Twenty-five years ago, Damian Voss murdered my father and attempted to murder me to steal the syndicate’s offshore treasury. And three years ago, he poisoned Thomas Voss to steal the crown!”
A collective gasp swept through the room.
Evelyn tapped a tablet connected to the hall’s grand projector screens.
Instantly, the financial records, offshore transfers, and audio confessions of the doctors Damian had bribed flashed across every screen in the room.
The evidence was undeniable, absolute, and overwhelming.
The regional bosses looked from the screens to Damian with disgusted fury.
“You poisoned Thomas?” Marcus Castillo whispered, backing away from Damian. “You swore he died of natural causes!”
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“It was for the good of the family!” Damian screamed, his veneer of sophistication completely shattering. “I built this empire! I deserve to rule it!”
“You built nothing,” I said, stepping toward him, the distance between us closing like an executioner’s walk. “You stole from the dead. And now, you pay the debt.”
