Chapter 6 - Retaliation from the Harts
In his private mahogany-lined study, Nicholas tapped the speakerphone button on his antique desk. The line had already been patched through, and the venomous shouting of Marcus Hart—billionaire shipping magnate and head of the Hart syndicate—blared through the speakers.
“—don’t give a damn about your excuses, Nicholas!” Marcus roared, his voice thick with gravel and arrogance. “You disgraced my daughter! You threw Vivienne out into the street like a stray dog over some wetback housekeeper’s brat! Do you have any idea who we are?”
Nicholas leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his fingers laced together over his chest. He let the silence stretch for several agonizing seconds before speaking.
“Marcus,” Nicholas said, his tone chillingly smooth. “You’re shouting. It gives the impression that you have leverage. You do not.”
“I have the ports, Moretti!” Marcus sneered. “Half your illegal shipments run through my terminals. I’ve already ordered my dockworkers to seize three of your containers coming in from Sicily. If you want those crates back, you will bring Vivienne back to your estate, get on your knees, apologize to her in front of your entire household, and announce the wedding date by tomorrow morning!”
Nicholas let out a soft, dry laugh that sounded like dry leaves scraping over concrete.
“Marcus, did Vivienne tell you why she was removed from my property?”
“She told me the child was stealing and acting like an undisciplined animal!”
“The child ate half a cookie,” Nicholas said, every syllable dropping like lead. “And your daughter pinned her down, bruised her wrists, slapped her across the face, and threatened to ruin her family. In my house, Marcus. Where my word is law.”
“She’s a child of no consequence!” Marcus barked. “Vivienne is royalty in this city! You threw away an empire for a maid’s mongrel!”
Nicholas leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the desk. The air in the study dropped ten degrees.
“Listen to me very carefully, Marcus. Those three containers you seized at the docks? Open them. Inside, you’ll find industrial machinery and legal automotive parts. Nothing more. Did you really think I would trust your ports with my real cargo when I knew what kind of viper you raised?”
There was a sudden, choked pause on the other end of the line.
“What?” Marcus muttered.
“My actual shipments were rerouted to Newark three days ago,” Nicholas continued coldly. “Furthermore, your offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands? The ones you used to launder your campaign contributions? My financial team dismantled the proxy shields twenty minutes ago. The Department of Justice will receive an anonymous package by three o'clock this afternoon.”
Marcus’s breathing turned ragged. “Nicholas... you wouldn't. That would ruin both of us!”
“No, Marcus. It will only ruin you,” Nicholas said mercilessly. “You crossed the line when your daughter laid her hands on someone under my protection. You have until sundown to resign from your board and pull your men out of the city. If I see Vivienne’s face or hear your name again, I won't use the law. I will use Marco.”
Nicholas reached out and terminated the call with a single click.
He sat back, breathing steadily, when a light knock sounded at the heavy oak door.
May you like
“Come in,” Nicholas said, masking his hostility.
The door crept open an inch. A small face peeked through the gap, hazel eyes looking up at him curiously. Lucy stood in the doorway, clutching a piece of paper and a blue crayon.
