Chapter 7 - The Message from the Grave
Richard completely ignored Claudia’s hysterical screaming. He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden toy.
With precise, deliberate movements, the 61-year-old mafia boss untied the frayed ribbon. He gripped the front and back of the wooden airplane and twisted firmly. The wood gave a sharp crack, separating perfectly along a hidden seam that had been glued shut.
The fuselage was hollow.
Richard tilted the wooden halves. A small, black object slid out, dropping softly onto his palm.
It was a micro-SD memory card, tightly wrapped in a small, blood-stained piece of paper.
Noah looked at it, completely confused. "Mommy put that inside. She said it was the engine. She said to only give the airplane to you, Grandpa."
Richard’s hands began to tremble. He carefully unfolded the tiny, blood-stained piece of paper. Written in Elena’s frantic, rushed handwriting was a single, devastating sentence:
Richard, they cut my brake lines. They are stealing the empire. Save my son.
The air in the lodge turned to absolute stone. The crackling of the fire was the only sound left in the world.
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Mark let out a pathetic, terrified whimper, backing away on his hands and knees, scrambling desperately toward the shattered remains of the terrace door. He knew that the memory card held the dashcam footage from Elena's car—the footage that proved he and Claudia had orchestrated the murder of his own wife.
👉 The pathetic son tried to run, but the apex predator of the Bellacorte family had already locked the doors.
