Chapter 10 - THE ULTIMATE BETRAYAL
The words hung in the air like a poisoned cloud, suffocating every sound in the penthouse suite.
Enzo slowly lowered the barrel of his Beretta an inch, his dark eyes snapping sideways to look at Harper.
Harper stood frozen, her face instantly draining of all color, her lips parting in a silent, horrified gasp.
"What did you say?" Enzo’s voice dropped to a terrifying, deathly whisper.
"Check her pocket, Enzo," Preston chuckled, gesturing mockingly toward Harper’s tactical jacket with his crystal glass.
"Ask her why she had the encryption keys to my private servers before you even raided my house. Ask her who really set up the meeting by the Chicago River the night your brother was murdered."
Enzo turned slowly to face Harper, his heart hammering against his ribs with a sickening sense of dread.
"Harper," Enzo breathed, his voice cracking slightly for the first time in his life.
"Tell me he’s lying."
Harper shook her head frantically, tears spilling over her lashes as she stepped back, raising her hands defensively.
"Enzo, no! It’s a lie! He’s trying to turn us against each other!" her voice cracked with raw, desperate panic.
"Look at the scars on my skin, Enzo! Would a mastermind who ordered a hit carve her own body up to survive his abuse?"
Preston burst out laughing—a harsh, barking sound that echoed off the walls.
"Oh, sweetheart, you always were a dramatic actress," Preston sneered.
"You think I branded you because you refused to sign the papers? I branded you to make you look like a victim so you could infiltrate the DeLuca family when the time was right."
Enzo stared at Harper, the confusion in his mind warring violently with the instinctual trust he had started to build over the past twenty-four hours.
"Who do I believe?" Enzo whispered, his gun shifting back and forth between Preston and Harper.
"Believe the evidence," Preston said smoothly, reaching into his jacket pocket with two slow fingers.
"I have the audio recordings right here on my phone. The conversation between my daughter and the hitmen on the South Side, arranging the exact time and place of Nathan's ambush."
Harper’s eyes widened in sheer terror as Preston pulled out a sleek black smartphone and tapped the screen.
A tinny, distorted audio recording began to play across the quiet penthouse suite.
*“Make it look like a carjacking,”* a voice that sounded unmistakably like Harper’s echoed from the speaker. *“And make sure the DeLuca boy doesn't walk away.”*
The room spun around Enzo.
The ground seemed to drop out from beneath his feet as the voice played on, sealing Harper’s guilt in undeniable, crystalline clarity.
Harper dropped her Glock, falling to her knees on the polished hardwood floor, sobbing uncontrollably as she clutched her head in her hands.
"It... it's a deepfake," she choked out, looking up at Enzo with eyes full of desperate agony.
"Enzo, please! Technology can fake any voice! You know what my father is capable of!"
Enzo stood towering above her, his face a mask of cold, unfeeling stone, the gun in his hand trembling slightly.
He looked down at the woman he had begun to care for—the woman who had shared her deepest, most agonizing secrets with him in the dark.
"Was any of it real?" Enzo asked, his voice hollow and devoid of all life.
"Every single word," Harper wept, reaching out to touch the hem of his trousers.
"I swear to God, Enzo, I love you! I didn't kill your brother!"
Preston smiled triumphantly, standing up from his chair and reaching for a hidden shotgun beneath the conference table.
May you like
"A touching family tragedy," Preston sneered, leveling the barrel straight at Enzo's chest.
"Now, let's finish what we started."
