Chapter 3 - The Fracture
The confrontation exploded with violent speed.
Marco closed the distance between them in three long strides, slamming his forearm against Malcolm’s wrist and driving the older man’s hand upward. The revolver discharged with a deafening crack, the bullet shattering a fluorescent light tube overhead and showering the concrete floor with sparkling glass shards.
Malcolm screamed as Marco twisted his arm backward in a merciless lock, forcing him down onto his knees against the grimy floor. The silver gun clattered out of Malcolm's grip, skittering across the room until a pair of small, elegant boots stopped it.
Elena picked it up, her hands surprisingly steady as she clicked the safety switch into place and aimed it squarely at the floor near Malcolm’s feet.
"Don't move," she said, her voice ice-cold.
Nicholas groaned, pushing himself up from the chair and rubbing his bruised wrists. "Damn it, Marco, took you long enough. My shoulders are killing me."
"Shut up, Nick," Marco panted slightly, keeping his knee firmly pressed into Malcolm’s spine. He looked down at the older man, whose expensive Italian suit was now ruined by oil and rainwater. "Your little game is over, Malcolm. The state attorney general’s office received the automated data packet an hour ago. Every shell company, every forged signature, every illegal land grab—it’s all on a public ledger now."
Malcolm let out a harsh, ragged laugh against the concrete. "You think you’ve won? Celeste is already at the courthouse. She filed for emergency spousal support and asset freezing based on our marriage license. Even if the wedding was cancelled at the reception, the preliminary license was registered with the county clerk three days ago!"
Marco’s expression darkened. A cold dread pooled in his stomach. If Celeste had managed to push through an emergency injunction before the marriage was officially nullified by a judge, she could legally tie up the DeLuca family trusts for months, bleeding them dry in legal fees.
"She wouldn't dare," Nicholas muttered, wincing as he touched his split lip. "The press would tear her apart."
"Celeste doesn't care about the press," Elena said, stepping forward with the gun still firmly pointed down. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Malcolm. "She cares about winning. And she’s been training her whole life under a man who treats human beings like chess pieces."
Marco pulled Malcolm up by his lapels, lifting the older man effortlessly to his feet. "Listen to me very carefully, Malcolm. If your daughter steps foot inside a single courtroom to enforce that fraudulent injunction, I won't just ruin your business. I will strip you of every penny, every property, and every shred of dignity you have left. Do you understand me?"
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Malcolm sneered, blood trickling from a small cut on his chin. "You’re too late, Marco. The paperwork was filed digitally at midnight. Right now, a judge is signing the order."
Marco didn't hesitate. He shoved Malcolm back into the arms of a terrified-looking warehouse security guard who had just coweringly appeared from the back hallway. "Lock him in the supply closet and call the federal marshals. We’re heading to the courthouse."
