Chapter 35 - Blood on the Water
The revelation hung in the mist like a blade suspended over Ethan’s throat.
"Julian..." Ethan muttered, his voice barely a whisper, yet filled with a venom so toxic it seemed to corrode the cold air. "My father spent the last five years of his life believing his eldest son was at the bottom of the Thames because of an unpayable debt."
"Eleanor bought the debt," Richter said, trembling. "Just like she buys everything. She bought Julian’s life, gave him a new identity in Lugano, and promised him the destruction of the Vance empire in exchange for his loyalty."
Phoebe reached out, gripping Ethan’s forearm tightly. She could feel the violent tension radiating through his muscles, the primal rage of a man discovering that the grave of his own flesh and blood was another masterfully engineered lie.
"Ethan," Phoebe said, her voice steady and grounding. "They orchestrated this together. My mother and your brother. They built this trap twenty-five years ago, waiting for us to cross paths, waiting to bring down both families in a single stroke."
Ethan looked down at her, his eyes blazing in the dark. The cold, analytical billionaire vanished, replaced by an apex predator whose territory had been violated.
"Then we don't wait for morning," Ethan said, pulling out a tactical satellite radio. "Nikolai, prep the speedboats. We go in by water."
Ten minutes later, two high-speed, black carbon-fiber tactical interceptor boats slipped into the freezing waters of Lake Como from a concealed marina in Tremezzo. The engines purred with muffled hydro-propulsion, barely producing a ripple as they cut through the dark glass of the lake toward the promontory of Villa Bellissima.
Phoebe stood beside Ethan near the helm, wearing a dark waterproof tactical parka, her hair tied tightly back.
"If Julian is there," Phoebe asked quietly over the low hum of the engines, "what will you do?"
Ethan checked the magazine of his sidearm, sliding it back into his tactical vest with an ominous metallic snap. "My father died of a broken heart because he thought he drove his son to suicide. If Julian chose Eleanor over his own blood, he died ten years ago. Tonight, I just bury him."
Suddenly, the night sky was torn open.
From the cliffs above Villa Bellissima, a blinding flare shot upward, bursting into an intense phosphorous white that illuminated the lake for miles around.
*Whoosh!*
"Incoming!" Nikolai roared from the controls, slamming the throttle to the port side.
A heavy caliber machine gun began chattering from a concealed bunker on the villa's rocky shoreline. Bullets chewed through the dark water, sending plumes of spray into the air. Several rounds tore through the fiberglass hull of the second interceptor boat trailing behind them, causing it to veer wildly off course as its engine caught fire.
"They knew we were coming!" Nikolai yelled, struggling with the wheel as bullets ricocheted off the armored glass of the cockpit.
"Richter didn't betray us," Phoebe shouted over the deafening gunfire. "Eleanor tracked his phone!"
From around the rocky bend of the promontory, a sleek, twin-engine mahogany Riva speedboat came roaring toward them at eighty miles per hour. Standing behind the windshield of the Riva was a tall, athletic man with dark hair slicked back, wearing an expensive black trench coat.
Julian Vance.
Julian raised a tactical grenade launcher, aiming it directly at Ethan’s boat.
"Ethan, down!" Phoebe screamed, throwing her entire weight against Ethan, tackling him onto the floor of the cockpit just as Julian fired.
The 40mm round struck the stern of their boat, exploding with a deafening concussive blast that ripped away the rear deck. The shockwave flipped the carbon-fiber boat violently, throwing Phoebe, Ethan, and their crew into the icy, churning black water of Lake Como.
The cold hit Phoebe like a physical wall, stealing the breath from her lungs. The dark water swallowed her, dragging her down into the freezing abyss as burning debris from the destroyed boat hissed on the surface above.
Her heavy parka was dragging her downward. Her limbs felt heavy as lead. Panic flared in her chest as her lungs burned for air.
Through the dark, murky water, a strong, desperate hand seized her wrist.
Ethan.
Even in the freezing depths, with blood trailing from a shrapnel cut on his forehead, Ethan pulled her toward him with superhuman strength. He kicked furiously against the undertow, breaking the surface with her in his arms.
They gasped for air, coughing out lake water, surrounded by floating, burning remnants of their destroyed vessel.
Fifty yards away, the sleek Riva speedboat slowed its engines, idling gracefully in the water.
Julian Vance stood at the bow, looking down at his half-brother and Phoebe, a chilling, arrogant smile spreading across his handsome face. He raised a hand, waving mockingly.
"Welcome to Italy, little brother!" Julian shouted over the idling engines. "Eleanor is waiting for breakfast. Don't be late!"
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With a roar of its twin engines, the Riva turned and sped away toward the private dock of Villa Bellissima, leaving Phoebe and Ethan clinging to a piece of floating debris in the freezing dark.
***
