Chapter 9 - The Return to the Manor
-9-
Dawn broke over Long Island, washing the jagged coastline in a pale, unforgiving wash of gray and gold. The black Mercedes sedan rolled through the wrought-iron gates of the Rinaldi estate, its tires crunching softly against the wet gravel of the driveway.
Inside the grand library, the fire had burned down to a pile of gray ash.
Camille Ashwood sat on a velvet sofa near the tall windows, elegantly sipping a cup of green tea. When the heavy oak doors swung open and Massimo walked into the room—supported by his cane, his face carved from granite—she nearly dropped her porcelain cup.
"Massimo?" Camille gasped, standing up so fast her tea spilled onto the rug. "You're... you're walking. How is that possible? Where is Dean?"
Massimo did not answer immediately. He walked slowly across the room, his footsteps echoing heavily against the marble, until he stopped directly in front of her. The sheer, overwhelming aura of absolute authority radiated from him like a physical wave, causing Camille to take an involuntary step backward.
"Dean won't be returning," Massimo said flatly.
Camille’s breath hitched, her green eyes darting wildly across his face, searching for any sign of uncertainty. "What... what do you mean? Where is he?"
"He's at the bottom of the East River, metaphorically speaking," Massimo replied with terrifying calm. "Along with his partnership with the Bellandi family, his plans for the syndicate, and his medical advisor, Dr. Hale."
The color drained entirely from Camille’s face. She staggered back against the bookshelf, her fingers gripping the edge of the mahogany wood for support. "You... you know."
"I know everything," Massimo said, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "I know about the meetings in Queens. I know about the synthetic neurotoxin administered through my daily water and vitamins. And I know that my upcoming wedding to you was nothing more than the final signature on a hostile takeover of my family's legacy."
Camille’s facade of sophisticated aristocracy shattered instantly. Tears of rage and panic welled in her eyes, and her voice rose in a shrill, desperate defense. "You think you're so smart, Massimo! You sat in that chair like a decaying king, blind to the world around you! You were weak! Someone had to take the reins before you dragged us all down into the dirt!"
"And you thought a wedding ring would give you immunity," Massimo finished for her. He turned slightly toward the doorway. "Marcus."
Two guards stepped into the library immediately.
"Pack her bags," Massimo commanded without looking back at Camille. "Put her on the first private flight back to her family estate in Europe. If she ever sets foot in the state of New York again, ensure she doesn't leave it breathing."
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"You can't do this!" Camille screamed as the guards grabbed her arms, dragging her screaming and thrashing toward the double doors. "You'll regret this, Massimo! The commission will destroy you!"
"Let them try," Massimo muttered coldly as the doors slammed shut, plunging the library back into absolute silence.
