Chapter 9 - Blood and Diamonds
Chaos erupted in the ballroom.
Investors screamed, bridesmaids scattered, and several wealthy magnates dove beneath their tables as the federal marshals swarmed the aisles.
Arthur Russo sprang from his seat near the back row, drawing a small, concealed silver pistol from his jacket. “Shoot them!” he screamed to his remaining private guards stationed near the exits. “Don't let them reach the stage!”
Before Arthur could raise his weapon, a heavy mahogany chair came crashing down across his wrist from behind, sending the pistol clattering across the marble floor.
Arthur spun around, gasping for air, to find Vance—not Julian Vance, but Vance the estate guard—standing over him with a cold, professional glare.
“Wrong family, Mr. Russo,” Vance said quietly, cuffing the shipping tycoon with professional precision.
Up on the stage, Vivien stood paralyzed, her wedding veil catching in the sudden draft as the ballroom doors blew open to reveal the gray, churning expanse of the Pacific Ocean outside.
Matteo mounted the steps of the altar, his dark eyes locked entirely on the shattered bride before him.
“The wedding is canceled, Vivien,” Matteo said, his voice ringing out clearly over the screams and shouts of the panicked guests. “Your father’s empire is being seized by federal marshals, and your co-conspirators are currently locked in the ship’s brig.”
Vivien shook her head, her manicured fingers clawing at the pearls around her neck. “You can't do this! I am a Russo! We made you! Without us, you’re nothing!”
“You didn't make me,” Matteo replied coldly. “You just tried to bury me the same way you buried my father. And that was your fatal mistake.”
Lena stepped up onto the stage beside him, holding a small black flash drive in her hand. She looked out across the ruined ballroom—at the expensive flowers, the terrified elites, and the glittering champagne towers that meant nothing anymore.
A federal marshal walked up the steps, placing handcuffs around Vivien’s wrists as she screamed curses that echoed off the vaulted ceilings.
As the guards escorted the weeping bride away, the heavy silence of the ocean settled back over the ballroom.
Matteo turned to Lena, his harsh, unyielding expression softening into something warm, steady, and utterly profound.
“Well, Ms. Carter,” Matteo said softly, a faint smile touching his lips. “It looks like you missed your shift cleaning the staterooms.”
May you like
Lena looked down at her black pantsuit, then up into his dark, storm-gray eyes. She reached out, lightly tapping her fingers against the lapel of his tuxedo.
“That’s fine,” Lena smiled back. “I think I’m done cleaning up other people’s messes.”
