Chapter 7 - The Ambush on FDR Drive
The confrontation at the gala shattered Valenti’s public composure. Within thirty minutes, international investors began quietly withdrawing their pledges from Valenti’s maritime presentation, realizing that a massive federal investigation into his expired permits was now inevitable.
“We need to leave,” Dominic whispered to me, sensing the shifting, dangerous atmosphere in the ballroom. “Valenti has lost his leverage. A cornered animal is at its most lethal.”
We exited through the private rear entrance of The Plaza, where Dominic’s armored convoy was already idling. Rain had begun to pour over Manhattan, turning the city lights into blurred streaks of gold and red.
As our armored Maybach surged onto the FDR Drive along the East River, Marco’s voice crackled through the radio from the lead security SUV.
“Boss, we’ve got three blacked-out Suburbans tailing us from the Midtown tunnel. They’re closing fast!”
Before Dominic could issue an order, a deafening crash shook our vehicle. One of the heavy Suburbans rammed our rear flank, trying to force the Maybach into the concrete divider. Gunfire erupted, bullets ricocheting off the reinforced ballistic glass with terrifying cracks.
“Casey, get down on the floor!” Dominic shouted, pulling me down and shielding my body entirely with his own.
The heat of his chest and the steady, unwavering beat of his heart grounded me amidst the chaos. He drew a customized silver firearm from beneath his jacket, his face completely devoid of fear—only cold, lethal focus.
“Marco, take the bridge ramp!” Dominic commanded into his comms. “Box them against the rail!”
The driver slammed on the brakes, executing a tactical spin that sent one of the pursuing vehicles careening across the slick asphalt and crashing into the guardrail. But the third vehicle pulled up alongside us, its passenger window rolling down to reveal a masked gunman aiming a heavy assault rifle directly at our rear passenger door.
Dominic didn’t hesitate. He kicked open his door against the wind, leaned out into the torrential rain, and fired three precise shots directly through the attacker’s engine block and windshield. The enemy SUV spun out violently, erupting into a cloud of steam and metal shards.
Dominic pulled back inside, slamming the door shut. He breathed heavily, his tuxedo drenched in rain. He immediately looked down at me, his hands gently framing my face, searching for any sign of injury.
“Are you hurt? Casey, look at me. Are you alright?”
Looking into his fierce, protective eyes, I felt an electric jolt of adrenaline and something far deeper.
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“I’m fine, Dominic,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the chaos. “Is it always this dramatic when you renegotiate contracts?”
A rare, genuine laugh broke from Dominic’s lips amidst the smoke and rain. “Only when I have the smartest woman in New York by my side.”
