Chapter 10
The swift, tactical mobilization of the bodyguards transformed the elegant dining hall into a staging ground for war. Adrian, groaning in agony, was hauled up by his collar and dragged out of the room, leaving a trail of blood on the pristine marble. Helena wept hysterically, her pleas falling on deaf ears as she was forced out the same door, her aristocratic reign definitively over.
Vincent stood alone at the head of the long mahogany table. The wealthy American guests remained frozen in their seats, their fair, rosy faces pale with shock. They had just witnessed a violent, systemic purge of the highest ranks of the syndicate, executed with terrifying precision.
"The dinner is concluded," Vincent announced, his deep, masculine voice echoing in the quiet room. "My men will escort you to your vehicles. If anyone speaks a word of what happened here tonight to the authorities, or to rival families, I will know. And I will find you."
The guests didn't need to be told twice. They stood up in a hushed, panicked frenzy, desperate to escape the gravitational pull of the Mafia boss's fury. They filed out of the room under the watchful eyes of the heavily armed guards.
Once the room was empty, Vincent let out a slow, deep breath. The tension bled from his broad, muscular shoulders. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored three-piece suit and walked slowly out of the dining hall, moving through the bright, cinematic corridors of the estate.
He headed directly for the west wing, toward his private, secure suite.
Two loyal bodyguards stood at attention outside the heavy steel blast doors. They nodded respectfully and unlocked the door as he approached.
Vincent stepped inside. The room was warm and softly lit. Maria was sitting on the edge of the massive bed, reading a storybook softly. Eli was fast asleep, wrapped tightly in a thick down comforter, his fair, rosy cheeks clean and glowing with innocent health.
Vincent’s cold, intimidating eyes softened entirely. The terrifying Mafia boss vanished, replaced by a fiercely protective, devoted father. He walked over to the bed and sat gently on the edge, careful not to wake his son. He reached out and lightly stroked Eli's soft hair.
"He fell asleep about ten minutes ago, Mr. Bellacorte," Maria whispered, closing the book.
"Thank you, Maria," Vincent murmured warmly. "You did well today."
"Are we safe now, sir?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly with residual fear.
Vincent looked up at her, the charming, romantic look completely returning to his face. But beneath the charm, the cold, calculating intellect of the syndicate leader was already preparing for the next battle. The feds were circling, and the purge of his own family would undoubtedly attract the attention of rival bosses looking for weakness.
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"We are safe in this house," Vincent promised, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. "But the war is far from over."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp and unblinking as he looked out the window into the dark night. The monsters within his own family had been banished, but Vincent knew there were always more waiting in the shadows. He was ready for whatever came next, a lethal guardian standing watch over the only thing that truly mattered.
