Chapter 3 - The Traitor's Panic
The cinematic tension in the room instantly spiked to an apocalyptic level.
Across the opulent ballroom, standing near the shadow of a golden pillar, was Marcus. He was Dante’s right-hand man, his most trusted lieutenant, wearing a flawlessly tailored charcoal suit. For fifteen years, Marcus had stood by Dante's side.
But Marcus wasn't acting like a confident underboss.
As he watched Dante kneel down and speak to the little girl, pure, unadulterated panic completely hijacked his nervous system. He began to sweat profusely under the heat of the crystal chandeliers.
Marcus knew exactly what the "something silver" was. It was a military-grade micro-detonator. He had wired the black lacquered box with enough C4 explosive to vaporize Dante and half of the loyal guests in the front row.
Marcus had recently developed a crippling, secret gambling addiction. He owed eight million dollars to a rival cartel, and the only way to clear his debt and save his own life was to assassinate Dante and hand over the Chicago territory.
He had rigged the box in the empty dining room an hour ago. He thought he was completely alone. He had absolutely no idea that the maid’s five-year-old daughter had been playing hide-and-seek under the long velvet tablecloth.
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Marcus’s face turned a sickly pale color. He took a slow, agonizing step backward, desperately calculating how fast he could reach the emergency exit before Dante realized the truth.
👉 Marcus thought he could quietly slip away, but Sophie was about to deliver the final, devastating nail in his coffin.
