Chapter 7 - The Grieving Widow
The deafening shot echoed through the mansion, finalizing the end of Lorenzo’s bloodline.
Lorenzo didn't look at the body. He stepped over it, his face a mask of carved stone. Sofia stood quietly in the background, her expression unreadable. She had seen the rise and fall of cartels; this was just another Tuesday in the underworld.
"The perimeter cameras," Sofia said, checking a small tablet she had pulled from the bunker. "A black Mercedes just pulled up to the main gate. The access codes were used."
"Isabella," Lorenzo said.
"The gate is opening. She's driving up the driveway. She expects to find a house full of your dead guards and Julian in control."
Lorenzo walked over to the main security panel in the hallway and typed in an override code. The heavy steel shutters covering the front doors slowly ground upward with a screech of metal, exposing the heavy oak double doors.
"Hide the bodies in the foyer," Lorenzo instructed, dropping his tactical vest and the shotgun. He smoothed down his bespoke suit, wiping a small speck of blood from his cufflink. "Stand in the shadows."
He walked down the grand staircase, standing perfectly still in the center of the foyer, bathed in the dim red emergency light.
Outside, tires crunched against the gravel. A car door slammed.
High heels clicked up the stone steps. A key slid into the lock, turning with a soft click.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
Isabella stepped inside. She was dressed in an impeccable black designer dress, completely ready to play the part of a woman who had just lost her beloved husband to gang violence. She held a lace handkerchief in her perfectly manicured hand.
"Julian?" she called out softly, stepping into the dim light. "Is it done? Have you cleaned up the mess?"
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"The mess is currently being handled, my love," Lorenzo said from the darkness.
Isabella froze. The color instantly drained from her beautiful face. The handkerchief slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the marble floor like a dead dove.
