Chapter 9 - THE DINNER OF BROKEN VOWS
The Moretti Grand Hotel towered over downtown Chicago like a monolith of glass and neon.
It was 3:00 AM.
The lobby buzzed with late-night gamblers, high rollers, and whispering security guards.
Thanks to Marcus’s master security pass, we bypassed the front desk entirely.
We took the private service elevator straight to the fifty-fifth-floor penthouse suite.
The suite was lavish, empty, and silent.
Vincent kept it stocked for private business meetings he never actually held there.
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the glittering city lights below.
Seven years ago, Vincent had brought me here on our third wedding anniversary.
He had held me against these exact windows and whispered that he would give me the world.
Instead, he had given me lies, betrayal, and a gilded prison.
“The uplink is connected,” Marcus called out from the mahogany desk.
“Data package is ready for transmission.”
I walked over and sat down in Vincent’s leather executive chair.
My fingers hovered over the enter key.
With a single click, gigabytes of encrypted financial records, wire transfers, hotel receipts, and signed confessions uploaded directly to the federal task force server.
UPLOAD COMPLETE.
The glowing green text flashed on the screen.
It was done.
Vincent Moretti’s empire was officially on borrowed time.
Suddenly, the private elevator chime echoed through the penthouse suite.
Ding.
Marcus froze, his hand dropping instantly to his pistol holster.
“The elevator code was overridden,” Marcus whispered in absolute panic.
“Someone just bypassed the executive lock.”
The heavy double doors of the suite swung open.
May you like
Standing in the doorway wasn't an enforcer.
It was Vincent Moretti himself.
