Chapter 6 - The Patriarch's Doom
Dante didn't yell. The silence that radiated from him was infinitely more terrifying.
He looked at Clara, and then he looked down at the five-year-old girl hiding behind her white blazer. A perfect, brave little daughter that he had missed for six entire years because of a treacherous, greedy monster.
"Take them to the guest house," Dante commanded softly, looking at his towering, muscular guards. "Lock the doors. Do not let anyone inside. If anyone tries to touch them, shoot to kill."
The guards nodded immediately, moving flawlessly to escort Clara and Sophie away from the main driveway.
Dante didn't wait. He turned on his heel and marched directly toward the massive front doors of his luxury mansion.
He walked straight into the lavish, brightly lit formal dining room. Sitting at the head of the massive mahogany table was his father, Vincenzo. The aging, arrogant former boss was sipping a glass of expensive red wine, entirely oblivious to the apocalyptic wrath approaching him.
Dante didn't sit down. He walked straight up to his father's chair.
"Dante," Vincenzo smiled, setting down his wine glass. "You look tense. Did a deal fall through?"
"No," Dante replied smoothly, his dark, calculating eyes completely dead. "But a dog just returned a missing shoe."
Vincenzo frowned, confused by the statement.
"Clara is alive," Dante stated clinically, leaning down so his voice carried a terrifying, untouchable power directly into his father's ear. "And she brought my five-year-old daughter with her."
The crystal wine glass violently slipped from Vincenzo’s hand. It crashed loudly against the polished table, shattering into a hundred pieces, spilling dark red wine that looked exactly like blood.
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The color violently drained from the old man's face. The arrogant, untouchable patriarch instantly realized his six-year-old assassination plot had just been completely, undeniably exposed.
👉 Vincenzo desperately reached for a weapon, but Dante was already signaling the absolute, public slaughter.
