Chapter 3 - The Confession
“Enzo,” Elena stammered, stepping back up a stair. “What is this? This is trespassing—this is intimidation—”
“This is an audit, my dear,” Enzo said smoothly, pulling a thick manila folder from Marco’s briefcase and laying it on the glass table right beside the listening device. “You see, when Dante told me about the bug, I didn't send hitmen. I sent forensic accountants and digital tracking specialists.”
Enzo flipped open the folder, revealing printed transcripts of encrypted data streams.
“For the past six months,” Enzo continued, reading calmly from the pages, “every meeting held in Dante’s study was broadcast via satellite relay to an offshore server registered under a shell company in the Cayman Islands. And the primary beneficiary account attached to that server? Registered to Elena Vance—your maiden name, funded by a trust managed by Marcus Vance’s former associates.”
Marco stiffened at the mention of the name, but kept his silence.
Elena stared at the papers, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The invincible socialite facade was entirely gone. She was a trapped animal, cornered in a cage of her own design.
“You... you hacked my accounts?” she whispered.
“In our line of work, verification is a prerequisite for breathing,” Enzo replied, closing the folder with a soft snap. He looked up at me. “She wasn't working for the feds, Dante. She was selling our port access routes to the Sicilian faction. They planned a hostile takeover of the Duca shipping lanes next month.”
I looked at Elena. The woman I had planned to marry. The woman who had slept in my bed, shared my meals, and smiled at my father’s memory while plotting to hand my entire empire over to my executioners.
“Why?” I asked. The question wasn't angry. It was hollow. “Was the allowance I gave you not enough? Was my name not heavy enough for your vanity?”
Elena glared at me, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated venom.
“You don't love anyone, Dante! You love your control! You love your father’s ghost! You treat people like inventory—either they serve your empire or they’re discarded! I wanted the power you hold, and I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized you lost it all to a woman you thought was beneath you.”
I looked at her for a long, silent moment. Then I turned away.
“Marco,” I said.
“Boss?”
“Pack up the equipment. Make sure her servers are wiped and the offshore accounts are transferred into a blind trust for municipal orphanage funding. Let her keep the glass house. She’ll need a place to rattle around in.”
Elena gasped, stepping forward. “What? You’re not going to kill me?”
I stopped at the door, looking back over my shoulder.
“Killing you would make you a martyr in the society columns,” I said flatly. “Leaving you with nothing—no power, no money, no connections, and a ruined reputation that every elite club in Manhattan will shut its doors to—that is a much more thorough execution.”
May you like
I pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool Manhattan rain.
Behind me, Elena’s frantic screams echoed against the glass walls, swallowed up quickly by the hum of the city and the steady rhythm of the storm.
