Chapter 26
The subterranean bunker beneath the Moretti estate was a marvel of modern engineering, a relic from the darkest days of the syndicate wars that Gabriel had retrofitted with state-of-the-art military technology. Located three stories beneath the manicured lawns, it was encased in reinforced concrete and steel, fully stocked with rations, an independent power grid, and a secure server room.
Rachel sat in the glowing hum of the server room, her fingers flying across a mechanical keyboard. Multiple high-resolution monitors displayed complex international banking nodes, wire transfer logs, and encrypted offshore accounts. She had been working relentlessly for six hours, fueled by black coffee and the terrifying knowledge that her daughter was sleeping in the adjacent room.
Gabriel stood behind her, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the lines of code scroll rapidly across the screens. He had changed into tactical gear—a black combat shirt and reinforced trousers—his sidearm strapped to his thigh.
"They are heavily encrypted," Rachel muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. "The Romanovs use a cascading algorithm to move their funds between shell companies every fifteen minutes. Every time I get a lock on the primary liquidity pool, it jumps to a new server in a different country."
"Can you break it?" Gabriel asked, his deep voice calm, providing a steady anchor in the chaotic room.
"I need a backdoor," Rachel explained, pointing to a flashing red node on the screen. "Vanessa’s trust fund. When she was expelled from the family, she maintained a hidden offshore account that her father set up. If the Romanovs are funding her operations in Chicago, she has to be receiving the money through that account. If I can breach Vanessa’s trust, I can ride the transaction trace straight back into the Romanov’s master ledger."
"How do you get into Vanessa’s account?"
"I need her security questions," Rachel said, looking up at him. "You were engaged to her, Gabriel. You lived with her. What would she use as a master password? Her mother's maiden name? Her childhood pet?"
Gabriel frowned, searching his memory. The time he had spent with Vanessa felt like a lifetime ago, a hollow, empty period of his life that he had actively tried to forget.
"Vanessa was entirely self-obsessed," Gabriel murmured, leaning over the desk. "She didn't care about her family, and she hated animals. Her password won't be sentimental. It will be something related to power or status."
"What about the date she moved into the estate?" Rachel suggested, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"No," Gabriel shook his head. "Try the date her grandfather founded the Bellini syndicate. September 14, 1972."
Rachel typed in the date. The screen flashed a bright, angry red. Access Denied.
"Okay, what else?" Rachel asked, feeling the pressure mounting. "What did she value more than anything else?"
Gabriel closed his eyes, thinking back to the night Rachel and Lily had walked into the dining room. He remembered the look of pure, venomous jealousy on Vanessa’s face. He remembered the diamond necklace she wore, the way she paraded her status.
"The ring," Gabriel said suddenly, opening his eyes. "The engagement ring I gave her. It was a flawless six-carat blood diamond. She spent weeks bragging about the clarity and the cut to everyone in the city. She obsessed over it."
"What was the jeweler's serial number?" Rachel asked.
"I didn't buy it from a jeweler," Gabriel said softly. "It was an old syndicate heirloom. It had a Latin inscription engraved on the inside of the band. Vincit Omnia."
Rachel quickly typed the Latin phrase into the password field.
The screen froze for a grueling five seconds, the processing wheel spinning in the center of the monitor.
Then, with a soft, chiming click, the screen turned a brilliant, glowing green. Access Granted.
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"I'm in," Rachel breathed, her hands shaking slightly as a massive, sprawling network of financial data flooded the screens. "Gabriel, you were right. The Romanovs are funneling millions into this account to fund the mercenary strikes. I have the master routing number."
"Drain it," Gabriel commanded, his voice cold and absolute. "Drain every single cent they have."
