Chapter 9 - The Debt Collected|
"She has a name," Vincent said quietly, standing up from his desk. "Her name is Emma."
Vincent walked around the heavy mahogany desk until he stood inches from his younger brother. At thirty-eight, Vincent possessed the imposing physical width of their father—a man who had cracked skull bones on the Brooklyn docks in his youth.
"What do we do with him, Boss?" Paul asked from behind Marco, the gun barrel resting steadily against Marco's suit collar.
"We don't kill him," Vincent said flatly.
Marco raised an eyebrow, a flicker of arrogant hope returning to his eyes. "You still have a soft spot for family, don't you, Vince? You can't shoot your own brother."
"Death is too quick for what you tried to do to our father's name," Vincent replied, his voice as cold as northern ice. "And if you die, your associates in Manhattan simply find another puppet."
Vincent reached out, grabbing Marco by his silk tie, pulling him close until their faces were inches apart.
"You are going to sign over every asset, every shell company, every piece of real estate registered under your name in New York to a blind trust held in Emma Carter's name," Vincent whispered into his ear. "You will leave this country tonight on a cargo ship bound for Marseille. If you ever step foot on North American soil again, Paul won't shoot you. I will personally hand you over to the federal grand jury with every ledger you ever signed."
Marco’s arrogance evaporated instantly. His skin turned ash-gray. "Marseille? Vincent, please... I have nothing there!"
"You have your life," Vincent said, shoving him backward into Paul's grip. "Which is far more than you offered me this morning."
Vincent turned to look at Julianna, who was weeping silently in her chair.
May you like
"And her?" Paul asked.
"Her father will resign from the appellate court tomorrow morning citing health issues," Vincent ordered smoothly. "Julianna will check into a private sanatorium in Vermont. If either of them speaks a word of this day, the video recordings from my dining room go straight to the State Ethics Committee."
