Chapter 9
"Are you okay, my sweet boy?" Luciano murmured softly, pulling back to look at Theo’s fair, rosy cheeks. The faint red mark from Bernadette’s slap was still visible, fueling the dark, violent resolve burning inside Luciano’s chest.
"I'm okay, Daddy," Theo smiled, his innocent face completely trusting. He held up the wooden train. "See? I kept it safe."
"You did very well, Theo," Luciano promised, his heavily tattooed hands gently holding his son’s small shoulders. "You are very brave."
He looked up at Maria, who was standing nervously by the sofa.
"Thank you, Maria," Luciano said, his raspy voice carrying a profound, rare gratitude. "Take him to the secure bunker beneath the estate. Do not open the vault door for anyone except myself or Silvio."
Maria nodded quickly, understanding the severe implication of the order. She gathered Theo’s coat and hurried toward the secret access panel built into the office wall.
"Daddy, are you playing a game?" Theo asked innocently, holding his father's hand before stepping into the hidden corridor.
"Yes, little one," Luciano murmured, offering a small, reassuring smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "Daddy is going to play a very serious game tonight. Be brave for me."
As the heavy steel door of the bunker slid shut, securing his son in absolute safety, Luciano turned his back on the office. He unbuttoned the jacket of his three-piece suit, retrieving a heavy-caliber pistol from his shoulder holster.
He walked back out into the main corridor, his polished shoes echoing sharply. Silvio was waiting for him, holding a secure encrypted tablet.
"Boss," Silvio reported, his face grim. "We accessed Marcus's offshore accounts. The funds are gone. But that's not the worst part."
Luciano’s sharp, intimidating eyes narrowed. "Speak."
"He didn't hire mercenaries," Silvio explained, handing the tablet over. "He transferred the money to the Moretti family. Marcus didn't just plan a coup; he sold our eastern shipping routes to our biggest rival in exchange for their military support to take your seat."
Luciano stared at the digital ledger. The Moretti syndicate was a massive, violent organization that had been pushing against the Venturi borders for years. A fragile truce had existed between them, but Marcus’s treason had just shattered it completely.
"When is the hit scheduled?" Luciano asked, his voice dead calm.
"Tonight," Silvio swallowed hard. "The intercepted communications show a Moretti strike team is mobilizing. They believe you are distracted by the gala. They are going to hit the museum perimeter in less than an hour."
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Luciano slowly handed the tablet back. He didn't explode into anger. The veteran Mafia boss retreated into a state of chilling, absolute tactical clarity.
"They think I am weak," Luciano whispered, a terrifying, dark smirk touching the corners of his mouth. "They think a fractured house is an easy target."
