Chapter 3 - The Wolf at the Door
I stepped onto the glass terrace overlooking the park before answering.
"Matteo, cousin," Nico’s smooth, aristocratic voice purred through the speaker, carrying the false warmth of a seasoned sociopath. "I heard a peculiar rumor from the lobby security at the tower. They said a beggar child approached you, and you cancelled your four o'clock board meeting with the German consortium."
I gripped the titanium railing, looking down at the crawling headlights sixty stories below. "Where are you, Nico?"
A short, mocking chuckle sounded on the line. "At the Metropolitan Club, enjoying an eighteen-year scotch with Senator Sterling. We were discussing the zoning permits for the new harbor terminal. Is everything alright at home? You sounded distracted."
"Giuliano Valenti," I said simply.
The silence on the other end of the line was instantaneous, heavy, and absolute. The clinking of crystal glasses in the background stopped.
"What did you say?" Nico’s voice had lost every trace of charm, sharpening into a flat, deadly hiss.
"I have the ledger, Nico," I said, every word measured like a firing squad command. "I have the Geneva transaction codes. I have the forged medical files from St. Vincent’s. And sitting in my living room right now is my daughter, Sophie, and the woman you spent six years trying to starve in the dark."
Nico didn't hang up. I could hear his shallow, rapid breathing through the digital static.
"You're making a catastrophic mistake, Matteo," Nico whispered. "The syndicate council doesn't care about a pianist’s daughter. They care about stability and maritime revenue. If you move against me, I will trigger the secondary clauses in our banking trusts. Half the council will declare you unfit to lead Caruso Holdings by sunrise."
"Let them try," I said. "Tell your security team to pack your office before midnight. Because if I see your face inside Caruso Tower tomorrow morning, I won't call the board. I will bury you beside the docks."
I terminated the call and smashed the phone onto the stone tiles, grinding the fragments beneath the heel of my boot.
May you like
Marco stepped onto the terrace behind me. "The council has just been notified. Don Silvio and Don Carmine have called an emergency conclave at the Hudson River Boathouse for midnight."
"Good," I replied, turning back toward the warmth of the living room where Sophie was eating soup at the massive oak dining table. "Arm thirty men with heavy tactical gear. Tonight, we purge the family."
