Chapter 3 - The Burner Phone
Clara gasped, dropping to her knees in pure, unadulterated panic. She scrambled to grab the black burner phone off the marble floor, her fingers trembling violently.
She was far too slow.
Vincent moved with blinding, terrifying speed. The mafia boss closed the distance in two massive strides, his polished black leather shoe stepping firmly onto the edge of the burner phone before Clara could snatch it.
He slowly reached down and picked up the device.
"Please, Mr. Castalano!" Clara wept hysterically, completely abandoning her professional composure. "I didn't want to do it! I swear to God, he forced me!"
Vincent didn't yell. A quick, violent outburst was far too generous. He simply looked at the glowing text message displayed on the screen.
From M: Is the microphone planted under his desk yet? If you fail tonight, the kid goes to the harbor.
The cinematic realism of the absolute, crushing evil taking place under his own roof paralyzed Vincent.
Someone was actively threatening to traffic a three-year-old girl just to force a terrified housekeeper to spy on him. And worse, Vincent recognized the encrypted phone number instantly.
It was Marco.
Marco was Vincent’s forty-five-year-old Underboss. He was a ruthless, arrogant man who had sworn absolute loyalty to the Castalano family for two decades.
Vincent slowly lowered the phone. His dark eyes turned pitch black, completely devoid of any human mercy. He reached up and gently took the pink plastic crown off his head, handing it back to little Mia.
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"Take the child to the secure vault," Vincent commanded Renzo softly. "Lock the door. Do not let anyone inside."
👉 Vincent turned his lethal attention back to the weeping mother, preparing to uncover a treasonous conspiracy.
