Chapter 16 - The council's venom
Damiano did not move an inch. He rested one hand casually on the pommel of his concealed blade, radiating an aura of total indifference that made Castiglione’s guards tense their trigger fingers. "You speak of authority inside my home, Antonio," Damiano replied, his tone razor-sharp. "You forget that my father’s empire was built on conquered treaties. If Elena Bellini fled the south, it was because your syndicate betrayed her father first. Sophia is under my personal protection. Her child wears the Moretti family crest. Touch a single hair on either of their heads, and I will hang you from the harbor bridge by your own golden cane."
Castiglione let out a rasping chuckle, tapping his cane loudly against the polished floor. "The Moretti crest? That worthless trinket won't save her from the truth, boy. Do you honestly believe Sophia came into your home seeking refuge from poverty? Why don't you ask her about the missing ledger? The ledger that contains the Swiss safety deposit numbers holding four hundred million dollars in seized war bonds?" The old man pointed his trembling finger directly at Sophia’s face. "Her mother didn't flee empty-handed. She stole the lifeblood of five syndicates. And this little maid was groomed from childhood to return and open the vaults."
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Sophia stepped forward before Damiano could answer, her grip tightening on the concealed weapon in her coat pocket. The fear had completely vanished from her eyes, replaced by a cold, burning disdain. "You lie, Castiglione," she said clearly, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "My mother lived in a one-room apartment with broken pipes and died of untreated pneumonia. If she had four hundred million dollars, she wouldn't have let my daughter cough blood while we begged the pharmacies for credit! You didn't come here for justice or treaties. You came because you're broke, desperate, and dying, and you think a sick child holds the keys to your salvation."
The sheer audacity of her words struck the grand foyer into absolute stunned silence. Never in thirty years had an outsider, let alone a woman who had spent months in a servant's uniform, spoken to the head of the Castiglione syndicate with such venomous contempt. Antonio’s face flushed purple with rage, his composure cracking like thin ice. "You insolent little rat!" he hissed, raising his cane toward his bodyguards. "Take her! Kill anyone who stands in the way!"
