Chapter 4 - The Uninvited Guest
The heavy front doors of the Mercer mansion swung open, letting in a gust of freezing wind and a swirl of white snow. Julian Mercer stepped into the grand foyer, brushing snow off the lapels of his expensive cashmere coat. Behind him, six heavily armed men stepped inside, their eyes scanning the marble entrance with practiced suspicion.
"Look at this place," Julian scoffed, shaking his head with a mocking laugh. "Roman always did like his antiques and quiet grandeur. Too bad he didn't live long enough to enjoy the new year."
Julian was younger than Roman, thinner, with sharp, arrogant features and slicked-back hair. He wore a gold ring on his pinky finger that belonged to their late father—a ring he had stolen before leaving for Miami.
"Marcus!" Julian called out into the quiet hall, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "Where are you? Clean up this mess and bring me the ledger! We need to finalize the Moretti transfer before dawn!"
Silence answered him.
The house was eerily still. The Christmas tree in the corner flickered with soft colored lights, casting long shadows across the floorboards.
Julian’s laughter faded slightly. He frowned, turning to his lead bodyguard, a broad-shouldered enforcer named Bruno. "Where the hell is everybody? Marcus was supposed to have the house secured."
"Maybe he’s downstairs disposing of the body," Bruno suggested, unbuttoning his jacket to reach for his shoulder holster.
"Check the dining room," Julian commanded, gesturing with a gloved hand. "And someone go up to the nursery. I want that kid secured in a room far away from here. We’ll ship her off to a boarding school in Europe by morning."
"I wouldn't recommend sending her anywhere," a calm, deep voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.
Julian froze. His bodyguards instantly drew their weapons, aiming upward into the shadows.
A figure stepped slowly down the stairs, illuminated by the warm light of the chandelier. Roman Mercer walked down the steps with unhurried grace, his left hand resting casually in his pocket, his right hand holding his heavy pistol at his side. Beside him, Salvatore and ten fully armed Mercer soldiers emerged from the balcony railings above, their submachine guns locked onto Julian’s group below.
Julian’s face went completely drained of color. His jaw dropped, his eyes wide with absolute disbelief. "R-Roman? You... you’re alive?"
"You look disappointed, little brother," Roman said, stopping halfway down the stairs and looking down at Julian like a judge overlooking a criminal. "Did you think I’d be resting in a pine box by now?"
"Marcus said... Katherine said..." Julian stammered, backing up a step until his back hit the cold iron of the front door. "The wine... it was a custom batch! You drink that specific bottle every Christmas!"
"I do," Roman replied coolly. "It’s a fine vintage. But unfortunately for you, my daughter has much better eyes than my security team. She noticed Katherine pouring your little cocktail into the decanter."
Julian swung his head around to look at Bruno. "Shoot him! Kill him now!"
Before Bruno could even clear his holster, a sharp THWACK echoed through the foyer. A sniper shot from outside passed cleanly through the glass panel above the door, taking Bruno directly in the shoulder and slamming him against the wall. He collapsed onto the marble floor, groaning in pain.
The remaining five bodyguards instantly dropped their weapons, raising their hands high above their heads. They were professionals, and they knew when a situation was completely unwinnable.
"Smart boys," Salvatore barked from the upper level. "Kneel down! Hands behind your heads!"
Julian was left standing alone in the center of the foyer, shaking violently, his confident posture completely erased.
Roman descended the remaining steps, his dark leather shoes clicking sharply against the floor. He stopped three feet in front of Julian, towering over his younger brother.
"You broke your exile, Julian," Roman said softly. "You brought foreign hitters into my home on Christmas night. You tried to poison me, and you planned to lock my daughter away."
"Roman, please!" Julian fell to his knees, clutching Roman’s trousers with trembling fingers. "It wasn't my idea! It was Moretti! Don Moretti approached me in Miami! He said you were getting soft, that you were focusing too much on the kid and neglecting the business! He said if I didn't help him, he’d kill me!"
Roman looked down at him with profound disgust. He reached down, grabbed Julian by his expensive silk tie, and yanked him up until they were nose-to-nose.
"You sold out your own blood because you were scared and greedy," Roman whispered. "You always were a coward, Julian. Father knew it. That’s why he left the family to me."
"Don't kill me..." Julian whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please, Roman... we share the same blood! Think of Father!"
"I am thinking of Father," Roman said coldly. He turned his head toward Viktor. "Take him down to the cellar. Put him in the cell right next to Marcus and Katherine. I want the three of them to sit together and reflect on their choices."
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"What about Moretti, Boss?" Salvatore asked, walking down the stairs to stand beside Roman.
Roman wiped his hand on his handkerchief as if wiping away dirt. "Moretti thinks he’s playing a game of chess. He thinks his piece just took my king. Tomorrow morning, we send him a Christmas present he’ll never forget."
