Chapter 5 - The Snake Turns
By nightfall, the fall of Adrian Cole was the top trending topic across every social media platform in the country.
A leaked photograph of my back—taken from an anonymous angle inside the Cole boardroom—had hit the internet, alongside the leaked audio of Adrian admitting to the crime. The public outrage was immediate, deafening, and absolute. Boycotts swept through every retail partner associated with the Cole brand.
In a cheap, run-down motel room on the outskirts of the industrial harbor, Adrian Cole sat on the edge of a stained mattress, clutching a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey.
His phone rang continuously on the nightstand.
He lunged for it, his hands shaking violently. "Hello?! Dad?!"
"Adrian, it’s Vanessa," came a weeping voice over the line.
Adrian’s expression contorted with rage. "You! You stupid bitch! This is all your fault! If you hadn't worn that ridiculous dress, if you hadn't insisted on humiliating her in front of everyone—"
"My fault?!" Vanessa shrieked through the phone. "You told me she was nobody! You told me she was a doormat who would cry in the corner and sign divorce papers without a fight! Do you know what they did to me, Adrian?! The Morettis took my apartment! They took my Mercedes! They took every single piece of jewelry I owned! The police are waiting outside my mother’s house with an arrest warrant for tax evasion!"
"Shut up!" Adrian screamed, slamming his fist onto the nightstand. "I don't care about your problems! I need cash! Where are the bearer bonds from the Cayman account?! I told you to keep them in your safe deposit box!"
There was a long pause on the other end.
Adrian’s blood turned to ice. "Vanessa... where are the bonds?"
"I... I gave them to someone who could help me," Vanessa whispered.
"You did what?!"
"I traded them for a ticket out of the country! A private jet to Switzerland! I leave in two hours, Adrian. I’m not going to prison for your embezzlement!"
"You stole my money!" Adrian roared, kicking a plastic chair across the room. It shattered against the wall. "You filthy little parasite, that was all I had left! I gave you everything! I ruined my marriage for you!"
"You ruined yourself, Adrian," Vanessa spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You’re not a billionaire. You’re not a powerful man. You were just a pathetic little boy living off your wife’s family without even knowing it. Have fun in prison."
The line went dead.
Adrian stared at the phone screen, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
A knock sounded at the motel door.
Adrian froze. "Who is it?"
No answer. Just three slow, measured taps.
Adrian grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table, creeping toward the door. He peered through the peephole. The corridor was empty.
Slowly, he unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open an inch.
A heavy combat boot kicked the door inward with explosive force, sending Adrian flying backward across the room, crashing hard against the bed frame. The lamp shattered against the carpet.
Matteo walked into the room, impeccably dressed in a light-gray three-piece suit, whistling a cheerful Italian melody. Behind him stood two massive enforcers in black suits.
"Evening, brother-in-law," Matteo said, stepping over the broken lamp shards and pulling the single intact chair upright. He sat down, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his knee.
Adrian curled into a defensive ball on the floor, clutching his bruised ribs. "What do you want? I don't have anything left! Elena took it all!"
"Oh, we know," Matteo chuckled, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "We took the penthouses. We took the yachts. We took the corporate accounts. But you see, Adrian... you made a very interesting phone call thirty minutes ago."
Adrian’s eyes darted toward his phone.
"You called Senator Vance," Matteo said, pulling a digital recorder from his pocket and pressing play.
Adrian’s own voice echoed in the tiny motel room: *'Senator, you owe my father. If you don't call the federal prosecutor and bury the Moretti evidence, I’ll release the surveillance tapes from the Macau casino. I’ll ruin your re-election before Friday.'*
Matteo stopped the recording and shook his head with mock sadness. "Blackmailing a United States Senator? Tsk, tsk. That’s very dangerous, Adrian. Especially when that Senator’s campaign was secretly funded by our family for the last twelve years."
Adrian’s jaw dropped. "What?"
"Senator Vance doesn't work for your father, Adrian," Matteo whispered, his brown eyes suddenly darkening with absolute malice. "He works for Dominic. The moment you hung up the phone, the Senator called us and handed over your entire Macau extortion file."
"Please..." Adrian wept, crawling forward, his face pressed against the dusty carpet near Matteo’s shoes. "Please, Matteo. Tell Elena I’m sorry. I’ll sign whatever she wants. I’ll leave the country. I’ll never show my face again. Just let me go!"
Matteo looked down at the weeping man with cold curiosity, as if observing an insect under glass.
"Elena doesn't want you to leave the country, Adrian," Matteo said smoothly. "In fact, she has very special plans for you tomorrow night. You’re going to be the guest of honor."
"Where?" Adrian sobbed.
Matteo stood up, adjusting his cuffs.
May you like
"The Vanguard Gala," Matteo replied. "The annual charity ball where you were supposed to be named Businessman of the Year. It would be terribly rude of you to miss your own coronation, wouldn't it?"
***
