Chapter 3 - The Threat at the Gate
I answered the phone without taking my eyes off Elise. "Julian."
"Boss, we have a problem at the front gate," Viktor’s urgent voice came through the speaker. "A motorcade of three black SUVs just pulled up to the perimeter. They're demanding to speak with you."
"Who is it?" I demanded.
"Dominic Moretti," Viktor replied grimly. "Anthony Moretti’s son."
My jaw tightened, an icy rage surging through my veins. Dominic Moretti was a ruthless, arrogant sociopath who handled the dirty, violent side of the Moretti family's operations.
"Do not let them through the gate," I ordered. "I'll handle this at the security checkpoint."
I hung up the phone and turned to Elise, who was standing frozen, her hands trembling against her chest.
"Go upstairs to the nursery," I said, my tone shifting from interrogation to absolute protection. "Lock the heavy steel security door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me or Viktor. Do you understand?"
"Dominic Moretti is here?" she whispered in absolute horror. "Mr. Caruso... if he sees me—"
"He won't," I interrupted, stepping closer and grasping her shoulders gently but firmly. "I won't let him near you, and I won't let him near my daughters. Go. Now."
She looked at me, her brown eyes wide with fear, but as she searched my face, a sudden wave of trust seemed to wash over her. She nodded frantically, turned, and sprinted out of the study toward the grand staircase.
I pulled open my desk drawer, reached into the hidden compartment, and drew out my black Beretta. I checked the magazine, chambered a round with a sharp clack, and tucked it into the holster beneath my suit jacket.
Two minutes later, I stood inside the high-tech security gatehouse at the edge of my estate. Outside the reinforced iron gates, three gleaming black luxury SUVs sat idling in the rain, their headlights cutting through the darkness.
Dominic Moretti stepped out of the lead vehicle, holding a black umbrella. He wore an expensive tailored coat, a cruel, arrogant smirk playing on his sharp face.
I walked out to the iron gate, flanked by Viktor and four armed guards carrying assault rifles.
"Julian Caruso," Dominic greeted smoothly, leaning against the iron bars. "It’s been a long time. You're looking tired, my friend. Widowerhood doesn't seem to suit you."
"State your business, Dominic, before I have my men clear your vehicles off my property," I said coldly, my hand resting on the butt of my weapon inside my coat.
Dominic’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a dark, predatory glint in his eyes. "We know you're bidding on the new port expansion contract next week, Julian. My father wants you to pull your bid."
"Your father can go to hell," I replied without hesitation. "Caruso Enterprises built those docks. We own the concession, and we will win the contract."
"Is that so?" Dominic leaned closer to the bars, his voice dropping into a sinister whisper. "You know, Julian... accidents happen all the time on the docks. Cars lose control. Brakes fail. It happened to your sweet wife, Elena, didn't it?"
A blinding, murderous rage flared inside my chest. Viktor took a step forward, raising his rifle, but I held up a hand to stop him.
"You have ten seconds to get off my land, Dominic," I said, my voice dangerously calm, colder than the freezing rain pouring around us. "If you ever mention my wife's name again, or come within a mile of this estate, I won't just destroy your family's business. I will personally bury you beside your father."
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Dominic stared at me, testing the absolute deadliness in my eyes. After three agonizing seconds, he let out a harsh laugh, stepping back toward his SUV.
"We'll see who gets buried first, Caruso," Dominic sneered, opening his car door. "Give your sweet little twin girls my regards."
