Chapter 5
Helena swallowed hard, her expensive diamond necklace rattling against her collarbone as she trembled violently. The room, now empty of all neutral witnesses, felt like a massive, brightly lit slaughterhouse. The bodyguards standing over her did not move a muscle, waiting for the command.
"Dante, I am family," Helena pleaded, her voice a pathetic whisper. "We share the same blood. You cannot kill your own aunt."
"I am not going to kill you, Helena," Dante replied slowly, the words measured and cold. "Death is a sudden, absolute release. I have no intention of releasing you."
He walked over to a small side table and poured a measure of dark amber whiskey into a crystal glass. He did not drink it. He simply held it, watching the light refract through the liquid.
"What... what are you going to do?" Helena asked, her fair face pale and sweating.
"You hold the deeds to the southern ports," Dante mused aloud, confirming her earlier threat. "You manage the logistics network that funnels untraceable cash into the family accounts. You believed that because you controlled the money, you were untouchable. You believed you could operate a shadow regime within my own house."
"I was securing our future!" Helena shrieked, desperate to spin her treason into loyalty. "The men listen to me, Dante! They respect my authority! If you remove me, the supply chains will collapse!"
Dante set the glass down on the table with a sharp, definitive clink. "They do not respect you, Helena. They fear the money you withhold from them. And as of this moment, you have none."
Helena’s eyes widened in sheer panic. "You can't touch my accounts! They are encrypted! They are locked in offshore trusts!"
"I am the Don," Dante stated simply. He looked at his underboss, a towering man named Silas. "Silas. Initiate the transfer protocols. Drain every single account associated with her name. Seize the deeds to the southern ports. Strip her of her properties, her vehicles, and her jewelry. Leave absolutely nothing."
"It will be done, Boss," Silas nodded respectfully, pulling a secure communication device from his jacket.
"No! Dante, you can't!" Helena wailed, pushing herself up from the chair. "I will be ruined! I will have nothing!"
"You will have exactly what you gave my daughter," Dante whispered, stepping closer to her. The intimidating, deeply masculine presence he projected forced her back down into the upholstery. "You will be dressed in rags. You will be stripped of your dignity. And you will be exiled to the streets of this city without a single dollar to your name."
"I won't survive out there!" Helena sobbed, burying her face in her manicured hands. "My enemies will find me! The rival families will kill me if they know I have no protection!"
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"Then I suggest you learn how to run," Dante said coldly.
He gestured to the bodyguards. "Take her. Strip her of the diamonds and the silk. Find her the oldest, most tattered clothes in the servant's quarters. Drop her outside the city limits before sunset. If she ever attempts to contact this family again, shoot her on sight."
