Chapter 4 - Confessions in the Dark
The heavy mahogany doors of the private study closed with a dull, echoing thud, cutting off the faint strains of ballroom music entirely. The room was dark, save for the pale amber glow of the desk lamp cutting across rows of leather-bound ledgers and dark wood paneling.
Luca sat rigidly in a leather armchair, flanked by two armed guards whose expressions were as blank as stone statues.
When Alessandro walked in, he didn't shout. He didn't slam a fist against the desk. He simply walked over to the mahogany wet bar, poured two fingers of unadulterated scotch, and stood leaning against the edge of the desk, looking down at the man he had saved from a Brooklyn alley fifteen years ago.
“Fifteen years, Luca,” Alessandro said quietly, swirling the golden liquid in his glass. “I pulled you out of the dirt. I gave you a name, a position, a brother’s share of everything I built.”
Luca swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the pale scar on his cheek—the physical marker of his supposed loyalty. He let out a harsh, bitter laugh, the tension finally snapping.
“You gave me a master, Alessandro,” Luca spat out, his voice shaking. “That’s all you ever give people. We aren't brothers. We are your tools. Every time you look at me, you don't see a friend; you see the guy who took a bullet for you like a good dog.”
“And Vivian?” Alessandro asked, his voice remaining dangerously calm. “Was she part of your grand rebellion against my mastery?”
Luca’s jaw tightened. A flash of genuine emotion broke through his fear. “She saw what I saw. A man who cares more about his empire than the people bleeding for it. The Duca family offered a real partnership—not servitude. We planned to take over the shipping routes clean, without your archaic code holding the syndicate back.”
“Clean,” Alessandro repeated, a dark shadow crossing his features. “You poisoned a glass of wine at an engagement party attended by half the East Coast elite, trusting a chemical concoction that could have easily killed innocent guests if the glasses were mixed up. And worse... you involved children in your games.”
Luca frowned, genuine confusion crossing his face. “Children? What are you talking about?”
Before Alessandro could answer, the heavy oak doors banged open.
May you like
Marco stood in the doorway, breathless, holding a thick manila folder and a digital tablet.
“Boss,” Marco said, his eyes hard. “We checked the security logs from the service corridors and the perimeter gates. You need to see this right away. It’s not just about Luca and Vivian.”
