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"Stefano!" someone calls out, raising their glass in my direction. I ignore them, my gaze finally resting on the man I've come for: Antonio, a low-level soldier whose ambitions far outweigh his abilities.
"Antonio," I say, my voice cold and measured as I approach him. He turns to face me, his eyes widening with fear as he realizes why I'm here.
"Boss," he stammers, attempting a smile that comes out more like a grimace. "What can I do for you?"
"Shut up and listen," I snap, leaning in close so that only he can hear what I'm about to say. The noise of the bar fades away as I focus on my words, each one carefully chosen to cut deep.
"I know you've been talking about Isabella behind my back, calling me weak and fueling fear within the compound."
His face pales at my accusation, but he tries to deny it nonetheless. "I don't know what you're talking about, Stefano. I swear—"
"Enough!" I roar, slamming my fist down on the table, causing glasses to rattle and the people around us to fall silent. "You think I don't have ears everywhere? That your pathetic whispers would go unnoticed?"
"Stefano, please," he begs, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't mean any harm. I just—"
"Your intentions don't matter," I interrupt, my voice dripping with contempt. "You've disrespected me and insulted the memory of our Don Conti who trusted me to replace him."
The room is deathly quiet now, all eyes on us as I tower over Antonio, my rage barely contained. I can feel their fear, their anticipation of what's to come. And it only fuels me further.
"From this moment on," I begin, my voice low and dangerous, taking his finger and twisting it slowly, "you will never speak her name again. You will cease your petty attempts at revenge and focus on what truly matters: our organization and its future."
"Y-yes, Stefano," he stammers, his face a mixture of pain and fear. "I understand."
"Good." I straighten up, my eyes never leaving his. "Because if I ever hear that you've defied me again, I won't hesitate to make an example out of you. And believe me when I say that it won't be quick or painless. I might even cut out your tongue," I say, shoving him against the wall. He stumbles and falls.
"Understood, boss," he mumbles, looking up at me from the floor, the fight gone out of him.
As I turn away and walk towards the exit, I can feel their curious eyes on me. Let them stare. Let them talk. Because with each whisper, with each sidelong glance, they'll remember who holds the power in this world.
And as the door slams shut behind me, I can't help but think of Isabella once more, wondering if she'll ever truly escape the ghosts of her past... or if she'll forever haunt mine.
The room is silent when I enter the warehouse the next morning. I can see the unease in the eyes of my associates as they gather around a long table, documents and money scattered about. They glance at each other nervously, their conversations halting when they notice my approach.
"Alright," I say, clapping my hands together and forcing a smile. "What's on the agenda for today?"
"Uh, we have a shipment coming in tonight," one of the men says, shuffling papers before him. "But there's been some... complications."
"Complications?" My voice is sharp, anger always bubbling beneath the surface. "Explain."
"Th-the port authorities are cracking down," he stammers. "They're demanding higher bribes, and if we don't pay up, they're threatening to seize our goods."
"Then pay them," I snap, slamming my fist onto the table, causing everyone to jump. "Do whatever it takes to get that shipment in. We can't afford any more delays. Why the fuck are you all so damn incompetent? Do I have to spoon feed you everything?"
"No, boss. W...we'll do it."
"Good," I say, with an edge to my voice. "For if you are incompetent, just know that I can't fire you. It's the mafia, and there's only one way you get to leave..." my threat hangs in the air. I let it.
I walk out of the warehouse, leaving the door open behind me.
"Stefano," a voice calls out, causing me to pause. It's Leo, one of my oldest friends and most trusted associate. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure," I say, forcing a smile, though my chest tightens with anxiety[Ma1] .
"Look," he says, searching my face for any sign of emotion. "I know how much Isabella meant to you, but this... this isn't you. You're letting your emotions control you, and it's affecting everything – our business, our relationships."
"Isabella meant nothing," I say.
"You can lie all you want. But I've seen you, Stefano. It's time you stop lying to yourself."
