Chapter 7
The festive atmosphere of the baby-shower salon was permanently dead, replaced by the cold, metallic reality of a Mafia tribunal. The bright video colors of the scattered ribbon boxes, paper gift bags, and torn fabric bunting lay in stark contrast to the dark, tailored suits of the heavily armed men surrounding the perimeter. The white American guests, those who were not initiated members of the syndicate, had been silently, forcefully escorted out the rear exits by security. Only the hardened capos and bodyguards remained.
"Is the perimeter secured?" Massimo asked, his deep, raspy voice breaking the suffocating silence.
"Airtight, Boss," his lead capo responded, keeping his weapon trained squarely on Adrian’s bleeding form. "No one leaves this estate. The medical team has Sofia and Noah in the secure wing. The doctor says she is stable for now, but they are monitoring the baby closely."
Massimo’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscles feathered beneath his fair, rosy skin. The thought of his unborn grandchild being harmed by the very man sworn to protect him sent a fresh wave of apocalyptic rage through his veins.
"Good," Massimo murmured, taking a slow, measured step toward the wreckage of the stroller-display rack.
Evelyn whimpered from beneath the tilted favor-shelf display. "Massimo, please... we are family. You can't execute family. The Commission won't allow it!"
"The Commission," Massimo stated coldly, not even turning his head to look at her, "will send me a bouquet of flowers when they hear you sold my daughter to the Russians to cover a gambling debt. You are not family. You are a disease."
He stopped directly over Adrian. The thirty-eight-year-old associate was coughing up blood, his expensive tailored suit ruined, his chest heaving irregularly due to the shattered ribs. He looked up at the veteran Mafia boss, his eyes wide with unadulterated terror. He knew there was no escaping the room alive.
"You thought you were clever, Adrian," Massimo said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm register. "You thought my daughter's silence was guaranteed because she feared for her son. You thought you could use my blood to leverage your own pathetic existence."
"I had no choice, Massimo," Adrian wheezed, spit and blood flying from his lips. "They were going to kill me! They threatened to burn down the eastern ports! I had to give them something of value to back them off!"
"And you decided the most valuable thing you possessed was your pregnant wife," Massimo observed, the absolute lack of emotion in his voice making the statement infinitely more horrifying.
Massimo crouched down, resting his forearms on his thighs, his tailored dark suit pulling tight across his broad shoulders. He brought his face uncomfortably close to his son-in-law's battered visage. The bright, cinematic light offered no place for Adrian to hide from the predatory gaze of the Don.
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"You traded her," Massimo whispered. "To buy time."
"It was only for one night!" Adrian pleaded desperately, tears streaming down his face. "He swore he wouldn't hurt the baby! He just wanted to humiliate you! To prove he could touch the untouchable!"
