Chapter 9
The basement holding room was stark and utilitarian, illuminated by a single, harsh fluorescent light that offered none of the cinematic beauty of the floors above. The concrete walls absorbed sound perfectly, making the room an ideal place for private conversations.
Nolan sat strapped to a heavy metal chair in the center of the room. His formal suit was ruined, stained with the blood still dripping from his shattered nose. He groaned, his head rolling back as consciousness slowly returned. His fair, rosy skin was bruised and swollen where Matteo’s fist had connected.
The heavy steel door scraped open. Matteo stepped into the room, locking the deadbolt behind him. He removed his tailored suit jacket, folding it neatly and placing it on a small metal table. He rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, fully exposing the artistic, refined tattoos running up his forearms.
"Nolan," Matteo said. His voice was incredibly soft, almost a whisper, yet it filled the room with an unbearable pressure.
Nolan blinked his swollen eyes, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the concrete floor. "You're a dead man, Matteo. When the Commission hears you assaulted me and Celeste..."
"The Commission is not here," Matteo interrupted, pulling up a steel chair and sitting directly in front of the bleeding man. "I am here."
Matteo reached into his pocket and placed the heavy gold signet ring on the small metal table between them. The gold clinked softly against the steel.
Nolan’s eyes dropped to the ring. The remaining color drained entirely from his bruised face. He stared at the ancient Savelli crest as if it were a venomous snake.
"You recognize it," Matteo observed, his cold, sharp eyes tracking every microscopic shift in Nolan’s expression.
"Where... where did you get that?" Nolan stammered, his American accent cracking with genuine terror. "He was buried with it."
"A man gave it to my daughter. Twenty minutes ago," Matteo said, leaning forward. His voice remained measured, cold, and dangerous. "A man wearing my father's coat. A man who warned her that wolves were in the house."
Nolan began to shake violently against his restraints. "He's dead. I saw the body. The coroner signed the papers!"
"Did you pay the coroner, Nolan?" Matteo asked softly.
"No!" Nolan cried out, desperation breaking his bravado. "I didn't! It was a real heart attack! We just... we just took advantage of the timing!"
"Explain," Matteo commanded.
"Celeste and I," Nolan wept, the pain in his jaw forgotten in the face of his absolute terror. "We knew you wouldn't marry her if the old man was still alive. He hated us. He knew we were skimming from the construction contracts. We were going to be exiled."
"So when he died," Matteo summarized, "you moved your sister into my bed to secure your position."
"Yes!" Nolan nodded frantically. "But we didn't kill him, Matteo! I swear to God! If he's walking around, if he faked it... he's coming for us. He knows we tried to steal the port contracts!"
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"And what else did you try to steal?" Matteo asked, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits. "Why did your sister try to throw my daughter down a staircase for this ring?"
Nolan swallowed hard, coughing on his own blood. "Because... because the ring isn't just a ring, Matteo. The old man told me once. The back of the crest... it twists off. There’s a micro-SD card inside. It contains the blackmail files on every single member of the National Commission. It’s his insurance policy."
