Chapter 3 - The Vegas Syndicate's Wrath
The vengeance of the Vance family was not loud. It was swift, silent, and absolute.
I left the hospital and drove directly to the underground high-stakes casino where Roman operated his illegal ledgers. I didn't bring an army; I only brought three of my most lethal enforcers. When I kicked open the doors to Roman’s private office, he was sitting behind his mahogany desk, laughing into a phone, a glass of expensive bourbon in his hand.
He looked up, his smile freezing as he saw the expression on my face and the blood still staining my dress shirt.
“Cassian,” Roman stammered, hastily hanging up the phone. “What brings you to the South Side tonight? I thought you were at the hospital with Sloane.”
I didn't speak. I walked across the room, grabbed him by the knot of his expensive silk tie, and hauled him entirely over the massive desk. He crashed onto the floor, gasping for air as glass shattered everywhere. Before he could scramble away, I planted my heavy leather shoe directly onto his chest, pinning him to the carpet.
“Sloane told me everything,” I whispered, pulling my suppressed pistol from my shoulder holster and pressing the cold steel directly against his forehead. “The fertility clinic. The forged signatures. The bastard child you tried to pass off as my heir to steal my empire.”
Roman’s face went chalk white. “Cassian, wait, she's lying! She's a crazy bitch, you know that!”
“I saw the wire transfers, Roman,” I said, cocking the hammer of the gun. The metallic click echoed loudly in the silent office. “You touched my wife. You drove her out of her own home. You nearly killed the mother of my true son.”
“Your son?” Roman breathed, genuine shock registering in his eyes.
“Elena is alive. And so is my heir,” I smiled, though it was a smile devoid of any warmth or mercy. “Your coup failed.”
I didn't shoot him. Death was too quick, too merciful for a traitor. Instead, I signaled my men. They dragged Roman out of the office. Over the next forty-eight hours, I systematically dismantled his entire life. I froze his accounts, seized his properties, and handed over his illegal gambling ledgers to the feds anonymously. He was ruined, bankrupt, and facing thirty years in federal prison where men loyal to me were already waiting for him.
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As for the corrupt fertility specialist, he received a midnight visit from my enforcers. The doctor mysteriously lost his medical license the following morning after a massive, anonymous tip regarding severe medical malpractice and bribery was sent to the state medical board, accompanied by irrefutable evidence. I bought his clinic through a shell company and liquidated it, ensuring he would never practice medicine again.
I burned their worlds to ash, ensuring that they could never, ever touch my family again. The empire was purged. The traitors were buried. Now, all that mattered was the quiet hospital room where my future was hanging by a thread.
