Page 5 of In His Office

And after all that, there was still the international smuggling ring that I’d had to contend with. Vincent had gotten caught up in something far bigger than he’d anticipated. It had taken every contact I had, every favor I could call in, to negotiate a reduced sentence for him and to get him out on bail early for “good behavior”.

And now here I was, doing the same fucking thing for him. He’d only made it thirty days out of prison before fucking up again.

I really didn’t need any of this today.

I picked up the phone, watching as he did the same. For a moment, the two of us were silent.

“Didn’t expect you to show your face here again.” His voice crackled through the line, tinged with what sounded like extremely reluctant respect.

“Uncle Vincent,” I replied, trying to mask my impatience. “I would rather be anywhere but here. But you’re the only family I have left, so I felt obligated to come.”

He scoffed. “You’re not here for me. Fuck that. It’s more like you’re trying to keep the Blackwater family name and your precious little company from being dragged through the mud again.”

I felt a surge of frustration.

“You know I’ve worked hard to distance myself from all this… mafia business of yours. Getting yourself involved in wars with the likes of the Marconi and the Fiorini families is not helping one fucking bit,” I snapped.

Vincent’s expression hardened. “Those Marconi bastards had it coming. And the Fiorinis? They’ve been stepping on our toes for years.”

I sighed. “That’s exactly why I separated myself from this world. I made a choice to pursue a legitimate business. I wanted to break away from these endless, destructive cycles. My company is about creating a future, not clinging to a past filled with guns and violence.”

There was a long pause between us, the tension heavy. Vincent’s eyes, once fiery, seemed to dim slightly. “You think you’re better than this, better than me?”

I leaned forward, my voice low and laced with a finality that even Vincent couldn’t ignore. “Goddammit, Vincent. What do I have to do? I should just let them throw you in jail for the rest of your fucking life. Now you’ve dragged me into this mob war along with you, and I’ve had to call in every favor in the whole fucking book. I’ve got hardly anyone left that I can call.”

Vincent’s eyes met mine, a flicker of desperation hidden behind his usual bravado.

I wanted to leave him there to rot, but I couldn’t do it. My father would have expected me to help family.

‘Blood is blood’, he would have said.

So, I’d give my uncle one last chance.

I cleared my throat before continuing, trying to steel myself for what I had to do. “So here’s the deal. Your first choice is this. You can try to beat this on your own, but don’t you dare bring my name into it. If you do, I’ll have you killed, and that’s not a threat; it’s a fucking promise. Choice number two—I find some loophole, or some technicality, and I pull all the strings I have left. But then you disappear. Leave the country, change your identity, do whatever you want. But don’t ever come back. Because if you do, I’ll kill you myself. You got me?”

There was a heavy silence as my words hung in the air between us. His green eyes bored into mine, steady and unyielding, but glimmering with a twinge of fear.

He was taking me seriously.

Fucking good.

Finally, Vincent spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just get me out.”

I stood up, feeling a mix of hesitant relief and deep-seated frustration swirling deep in my belly. “I’ll make the arrangements. But remember, once you’re out, you’re on your own. This is the last time, Vincent. The last fucking time I clean up your mess. Next time, it’s on you.”

“Got it, boss,” he said, and I hung up the phone. There was nothing left to say. We’d reached a breaking point, and there was no coming back.

I turned around and walked out.

* * *

As expected, my stock prices were tanking.

I needed to fix this, and fast.

I called in my PR representative, Elaine, a seasoned professional in her fifties whose expertise had steered my company through rough waters before. She entered the office, her expression a mix of concern and resolve.

“Elaine, thanks for coming on such short notice,” I started, getting straight to the point. “The situation with Vincent is blowing up. We need a strategy to stabilize our stock and reassure our investors. I’ve pulled the necessary favors to deal with the legal side, but now, it’s a PR nightmare.”

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