Chapter 17: House of Cards
Arthur Sterling froze, the papers slipping from his trembling fingers and scattering across the Persian rug. He looked at the muzzle of Dante’s gun, then up to the dead, merciless eyes of his son-in-law. The politician’s arrogant, untouchable demeanor completely evaporated, replaced by the pathetic, sniveling coward Aria had always known he was.
"Dante, listen to me," Sterling stammered, raising his hands in surrender, backing away from the shredder. "The ambush tonight—that wasn't me! It was rogue contractors. I didn't authorize a hit on my own daughter!"
"You don't get to say her name," Dante’s voice was a terrifying, hollow whisper. He stepped further into the room, the door clicking shut behind him as Matteo took position outside.
"Whatever you want, I can give it to you!" Sterling pleaded, his voice cracking. "Zoning permits. Police cooperation. I can hand you the entire seaport district! Just name your price!"
Dante slowly lowered his weapon, though his finger remained dangerously close to the trigger. "You think this is a negotiation, Arthur? You think there is a dollar amount in this world that can buy your way out of the terror you put in my wife’s eyes?"
Julian let out a muffled, pathetic whimper through his wired jaw, trying to wheel himself further into the corner, shrinking away from the apex predator in the room. Dante didn't even grant the brother a second glance. Julian was already broken; he was a ghost of a man.
"You ordered no survivors," Sterling whispered, his face completely drained of color as he remembered the rumors of Dante’s ruthlessness. "You're going to kill us."
"Killing you is a mercy," Dante said softly, walking over to the Senator's desk. He picked up a framed photograph of the Sterling family—Aria conspicuously absent from the frame—and smashed it face-down onto the mahogany wood. "If I put a bullet in your head, you die a martyr. The city mourns a tragic politician. I am not going to let you die with your legacy intact."
Dante reached into his tactical vest, pulled out a thick envelope, and tossed it onto the shattered glass of the picture frame.
Sterling’s eyes darted to the envelope. "What is that?"
"Copies," Dante replied coldly. "Of the offshore routing numbers. The Cayman accounts. The bribery ledgers. Every single dirty secret you forced your daughter to keep." He checked his heavy steel watch. "It is 5:45 AM. In fifteen minutes, the Boston Chronicle goes to print. In sixteen minutes, the FBI, the IRS, and the Federal Election Commission will receive the decrypted hard drives."
Sterling staggered backward, clutching his chest as if he had been shot. "No... no, you can't. It will ruin me. I'll go to federal prison. They'll eat me alive in there."
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"I know," Dante said, a cruel, satisfied smile touching his lips. "And you will spend the rest of your miserable, pathetic life in a cage, knowing that the daughter you beat into submission was the one who locked the door."
Dante turned his back on the ruined men and walked out.
