Chapter 7 - White Night in Federal Detention
The Manhattan federal detention center was notorious as America's most secure facility, housing notorious terrorists and ruthless cartel bosses. Yet for me, concrete walls and cold iron bars were far less terrifying than the silence echoing within my own mind.
In my isolated cell, harsh fluorescent light beat down on a small iron table. I sat there with my hands intertwined, calculating my next moves.
I knew Victor Thorne had engineered this trap to oust me from our underworld alliance while weaponizing the legal system to wipe out my family. He assumed that once I was imprisoned and dragged to court, the Russo financial empire would collapse, leaving his grasp over my massive assets and port infrastructure unchallenged.
Yet he underestimated Dominic Russo.
Fifteen years in the underworld taught me one rule: never put all your eggs in one basket, and always keep a dark ace up your sleeve.
That night, the cell door swung open. A court-appointed defense attorney—an operative I had planted within the intermediary network long ago—walked in and placed a thin document folder on the table.
"Mr. Russo," the lawyer whispered, bowing slightly. "The preliminary hearing is set for tomorrow morning at the Manhattan Supreme Court. Victor Thorne is heavily pressuring the judicial panel. He intends to push for a life sentence without parole and strip you entirely of custody over your children."
"Thorne forgot one thing," I raised my head, my eyes flashing coldly in the dark. "Does he really think the audio file in my safe was the only piece of evidence against him?"
"You have a duplicate?"
"Not just a duplicate," I smirked grimly. "That safe houses a dead-man's switch. If I don't input verification codes into the primary station at the Long Island estate within forty-eight hours, all transactional financial data between Thorne and the Mendoza cartel automatically transmits to the U.S. Department of Justice and major newspapers in London and New York."
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The lawyer turned pale, swallowing hard. "He's digging his own grave."
"Exactly," I stood up, my tall frame casting a shadow over the cramped cell. "Tomorrow morning in that courtroom, I won't plead guilty to murder. I'll make Victor Thorne walk up to the gallows with his own hands."
