Chapter 8
The bright, natural sunlight seemed to cast long, condemning shadows across the ruined memorial garden. Alessio stood perfectly still, his mind rapidly processing the catastrophic implications of the midnight burial. Three heavy bags hidden on his property meant someone was trying to frame him, hide stolen syndicate assets, or bury evidence that would bring the federal government crashing down on his entire organization.
"Domenico. Silas," Alessio commanded, his deep, raspy voice echoing clearly across the silent terrace.
Two massive, broad-shouldered bodyguards in dark suits immediately stepped forward from the perimeter. "Yes, Boss," they answered in unison, their American accents sharp and ready.
"Go to the maintenance shed," Alessio ordered, not taking his cold, intimidating eyes off Claudia. "Bring me shovels. Bring me pickaxes. We are going to do some gardening."
"Right away, sir," Domenico nodded, sprinting across the manicured lawn toward the outbuildings.
Alessio turned his attention to the crowd of stunned guests. "The luncheon is officially concluded. Everyone who is not a sworn member of this family will be escorted to their vehicles immediately. My men will confiscate all mobile phones at the gate. They will be returned to you tomorrow. Speak of this to no one."
The civilian guests nodded frantically, desperate to escape the impending bloodshed. They filtered out of the garden in a hurried, terrified mass, leaving only the hardened capos and the heavily armed security detail behind.
Alessio looked at the bodyguard holding his four-year-old daughter. Ruby was resting her head on the man's broad shoulder, her tears finally drying, but she was still trembling from the shock of the freezing water.
"Take my daughter inside," Alessio said gently, his tone softening only for her. "Take her to my private suite. Have Maria draw her a warm bath and stay with her. Lock the doors."
"With my life, Boss," the guard swore, carrying the little girl safely into the massive estate.
As the heavy glass doors closed, leaving Alessio alone with his syndicate and the traitors, Domenico and Silas returned. They carried heavy, steel-headed shovels and iron pickaxes, the tools gleaming menacingly in the bright cinematic light.
"Where do we dig, Boss?" Silas asked, rolling up the sleeves of his expensive suit.
Alessio walked slowly across the shattered ceramics and spilled soil, heading directly toward the narrow, untouched strip of dark earth beside the reinforced brick wall of the greenhouse. He stopped, examining the ground. To the untrained eye, it looked normal, but Alessio could see the subtle signs of recent disturbance—the loose compaction of the dirt, the slightly wilted edges of the surrounding grass.
"Here," Alessio pointed, his polished leather shoe tapping the earth. "Dig it up. Every single inch."
"Alessio, please!" Claudia shrieked from the ground, struggling to push herself up onto her knees. "You don't want to see what's in there! If you dig that up, the Chicago outfit will slaughter us all! We were trying to protect the family!"
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"You were protecting yourselves," Alessio corrected coldly, turning his back on her. "Dig."
The rhythmic, heavy thuds of steel striking earth began to echo across the garden, a grim, terrifying countdown to the ultimate revelation.
