Chapter 4 - The Housecleaning
Within forty-eight hours, the Corvino estate underwent a silent, ruthless purge.
Arya Sterling returned from her SoHo bridal fitting late that evening, expecting to find Vincent brooding in the dark and Dominic in control of the books. Instead, she found two private security guards standing outside her bedroom door, two federal marshals waiting in the foyer with a subpoena for her father’s financial records, and Vincent sitting upright in a motorized wheelchair at the head of the dining table downstairs.
It was the first time he had left the master suite in six months.
He wore a dark tailored blazer over a crisp black shirt, his powerful shoulders squared, his gaze as sharp as a razor. Behind him stood Tessa, pushing the wheelchair with quiet, unwavering confidence.
"Arya," Vincent said, his voice cutting through the cavernous dining hall like cold steel.
Arya froze in the doorway, her designer handbag slipping from her fingers to land softly on the marble floor. "Vince... what is... what are you doing downstairs? How are you—"
"Pack your bags," Vincent interrupted, his tone devoid of any emotion. "Your father’s bank accounts in the Cayman Islands were seized this morning by federal investigators working off a comprehensive financial ledger my accountant compiled over the last forty-eight hours. The engagement is canceled. The ring stays on the table."
"You can't do this!" Arya shrieked, panic cracking her polished composure. "My father will declare war! The family will—"
"Your father’s family is currently boarding federal transport vans downtown," Vincent cut her off, raising a single finger. "And Dominic Marchetti had a very unfortunate boating accident off the coast of Montauk this afternoon. His body hasn't been recovered, but his holding company has already filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. You have twenty minutes to gather your dresses before the staff escorts you to the front gate."
She stared at him, realizing with sickening terror that the bullet hadn't destroyed Vincent Corvino at all; it had only stripped away the fat and left behind pure, unadulterated apex predator. Without another word, she turned and fled up the stairs in tears.
Vincent looked up at the woman standing behind his wheelchair.
"Tessa," he said quietly.
"Yes, Mr. Corvino?"
"How much does your sister need for her college tuition?"
Tessa paused, resting her hands on the polished chrome handles of the wheelchair. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.
"Eighty thousand dollars covers her undergraduate degree and medical school prerequisites," Tessa said evenly.
Vincent reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a thick, black fountain pen, and slid a blank corporate check across the mahogany dining table, along with a multi-million-dollar employment contract bearing the title Chief Executive Officer of Corvino Global Assets.
"Fill in whatever number you want for your sister," Vincent said, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute intensity. "And as for your salary... let's start with a million a year, plus full medical benefits and a controlling stake in the shipping logistics firm. I need someone by my side who isn't afraid of guns, blood, or broken men."
May you like
Tessa looked down at the check, then up at the most feared man in the city—a man sitting in a chair, yet towering over everyone else in the room.
Without a word of hesitation, she picked up the pen.
