Chapter 5 - Confession on the Thirty-Second FloorMarcus stared at the ring as if it were a venomous snake. The game was up. The elaborate web of lies, corporate accounting tricks, and betrayal had completely unraveled in less than an hour.
“She was going to tell you,” Marcus blurted out, his voice cracking into a desperate plea as he dropped heavily back into his ergonomic chair. “Isabelle found the offshore accounts six days before she died! She figured out I was funneling syndicate funds to the Brighton Beach crew behind your back. She said if I didn't confess to you herself, she would expose everything!”
“So you had her killed,” I said, my voice deathly calm. “Outside a preschool. In broad daylight.”
“I didn't mean for the girls to be there!” Marcus cried, raising his hands defensively. “It was supposed to look like a botched carjacking! The hitman went rogue—it wasn't supposed to happen like that!”
“A hitman,” I repeated softly. “Who was he?”
Marcus hesitated, his eyes darting toward the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk.
“Who was he, Marcus?” I repeated, my hand resting casually inside my coat where my holster waited.
“Vance... his name is Viktor Petrov,” Marcus stammered, weeping openly now. “He works for the Bratva. He’s the one who pulled the trigger!”
I looked at Vincent. Vincent gave a single, chilling nod.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“Docks. Pier 42,” Marcus sobbed. “He’s meeting with the Russian delegates tonight at midnight to finalize the transfer of the last shipping consignment!”
I picked up the platinum ring from his desk and slid it into my pocket. I turned toward the door.
“Dominic! Wait!” Marcus screamed, grabbing the edge of the desk. “What are you going to do with me?”
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I stopped at the threshold and looked back over my shoulder.
“You’re going to stay right here, Marcus,” I said coldly. “Vincent will keep you company until I get back. And then we’re going to have a long conversation about what happens to men who hurt my family.”
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