Amy was considered reliable, at least until I joined Cichello Industries. Dad requested that I conduct an internal corporateinvestigation, during which I uncovered funds being redirected to an offshore shell company.
But during my interrogation, I discovered the money she stole wasn’t for herself. It was for her boyfriend, Neo Brazzi, from New York. He’s a rising Italian mafia gangster in lower Manhattan, known for supplying artists with their drugs of choice. Neo aims to expand his influence with the help of his best friend, Drake Rostova. Who’s connected to the Rostova Bratva in Manhattan, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a link to Aleksandr. Together, they’re amassing an army, plotting to seize another of my dad’s territories as well as part of the Baccaro domain. This is just the usual mafia game. Small-time gangsters trying to muscle in on the territory of bigger bosses. But my dad’s power has only grown stronger, especially now that he’s backed by the New Jersey Four Families.
After torturing Amy sporadically for a week, I chopped her body into little pieces.
My men took the yacht out into Delaware Bay and scattered her remains across the Atlantic. Meanwhile, I assigned two bodyguards to watch Steven closely, to see if he socialized with anyone after work.
Torturing Amy drained me deeply. I began sleeping eight hours each night to ensure I’d be fully rested when it was time to deal with Steven.
Despite everything, I keep showing up at work every day.
Three weeks later, I strut into the warehouse, smiling as I approach Steven.
“Hello, Steven. How’s everything with you?”
He barks through the gag, his wrists and ankles thrashing against the zip ties.
His pale face burns a deep red, clad only in white briefs.
“What? I can’t make out what you’re saying.”
I edge closer to pull off the gag.
Javier and Fitz growl low but don’t block my approach.
“You had no right to have me picked up. Where is Tizáno?”
I throw my head back and laugh.
“Don’t worry about my father. I’m the one you should be worried about right now.”
He spits phlegm onto my shirt. “You’re a fucking child who needs to be put in her place.”
Before he can finish, Fitz and Javier slam their fists into his face.
“That’s enough,” I command.
Steven’s chest heaves. Fitz hands me a tissue. I wipe the spit from my shirt and flick it onto the plastic tarp.
“Tizáno will put you and your little crew in your place,” Steven gasps.
I slide my fingers into my leather gloves. “I understand what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me enraged so I’ll kill you before my dad arrives.”
I walk toward him, grab a handle, and spin.
“No, stop,” he yells.
“It’s time we tell you why you’re here.” I grin, watching the rat spin on the wheel.
I stop the wheel once he’s right side up. “My men told you to perform a check on Alvin.”
He winces, and I can’t tell if that’s a sign he knows what I’m talking about or the pain from his face being pulverized.
“The information I gave was accurate .”
“No, it wasn’t. He worked for Nico’s enemy.”
His one good eye widens. “Worked?”
