Chapter 12 - THE TRAP AT THE DOCKS
Determined to put an end to Victor Vance’s extortion scheme once and for all, Nico and Sienna worked directly with Prosecutor Reed and the State Police to construct a sting operation.
Vance had demanded a private meeting at an abandoned shipping warehouse near the southern piers to hand over the alleged "forged documents" in exchange for a cashier's check.
At eight o'clock on a foggy Thursday evening, two black sedans pulled into the dimly lit warehouse.
Nico stepped out of the rear passenger side, accompanied by Mark and two plainclothes officers disguised as private security. In his coat pocket, Nico carried a tracking device and a live wire synced directly to Prosecutor Reed’s tactical van parked two blocks away.
Inside the cavernous warehouse, Victor Vance stood waiting near a rusted freight container, surrounded by three hired enforcers. He was a tall, gaunt man with sharp features and cold, calculating eyes.
"Nico Ferrante," Vance sneered, holding a leather briefcase against his chest. "I see you brought your muscle. Where is the check?"
"Where are the documents, Vance?" Nico countered, his voice steady and commanding, echoing off the iron rafters. "You claim my granddaughter’s birth is illegitimate. Show me the proof."
Vance laughed dryly, tapping the briefcase. "This case file contains fake intake forms signed by Dr. Sterling stating Sienna was medically unfit at delivery. It’s enough to drag your family’s name through the mud for years in open probate court. Twenty million is a bargain for your precious reputation."
"You built a career on stealing children from vulnerable mothers," Nico said, taking a deliberate step closer. "You took Marjorie's money to help kidnap my unborn grandchild."
"Money is money, old man!" Vance snapped, his composure slipping. "Now give me the check, or these files go to the press tonight!"
"You won't be sending anything to the press, Dr. Vance," Prosecutor Reed’s voice boomed through the warehouse loudspeakers as the heavy rolling steel doors swung open.
A dozen armed tactical police officers swarmed the building, red laser sights illuminating the fog.
"State Police! Drop your weapons and get on the ground!"
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Vance’s hired men dropped their arms immediately, raising their hands. Vance panicked, lunging toward a side exit, but Mark cut him off in three swift strides, sweeping his legs out from under him and pinning him to the damp concrete floor.
Nico walked over, looking down at the disgraced doctor with cold disdain. "The Ferrante name stands on truth, Vance. Your shadows end tonight."
