Chapter 10
The bright, natural sunlight of the memorial room suddenly felt stark and cold. Vincent knelt beside the chaise lounge, his hands resting on the velvet fabric, his mind reeling from the explosive revelation. His father’s sudden death five years ago had paved the way for his ascension to the head of the family. He had always believed it was a natural tragedy.
"The Commission killed my father," Vincent repeated, his voice dropping into a deadly, freezing whisper. The artistic tattoos on his neck shifted as his jaw locked with a fury that transcended anything he had felt before.
"Yes," Evelyn nodded, pulling his suit jacket tighter around her frail shoulders. "Helena found out I had the copies of the bank transfers. She knew that if you found out New York assassinated the old Don, you would declare war on the entire East Coast. She was terrified of losing the peace, and losing her wealth. So she and Marco conspired with the Commission to silence me."
Vincent stared at the floor, his sharp, intimidating eyes unblinking. His sister hadn't just betrayed his marriage; she had been complicit in the cover-up of his father's murder. The rot in his family ran deeper than he could have ever imagined.
"They thought putting me in the wall would pacify you," Evelyn continued, reaching out a trembling hand to touch the short, well-trimmed beard on his jawline. "They thought it would keep the syndicate stable."
"They thought wrong," Vincent murmured, leaning into her touch.
He stood up, his towering, masculine frame radiating an aura of apocalyptic resolve. The charming, romantic look of his wavy hair now framed the face of a warlord preparing for a siege. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his encrypted smartphone.
"Call the doctor," Evelyn urged softly. "I want to see my daughter."
"I will," Vincent promised. He dialed a secure number, his cold eyes locking onto the empty space on the wall where the portrait used to be. The shrine to his grief was gone, replaced by a monument to his vengeance.
"Silas," Vincent said as his head capo answered the line.
"Yes, Boss. The prisoners are secured in the basement," Silas reported, his American accent crisp and ready.
"Leave them there," Vincent commanded, his volume incredibly low, measuring out the doom of his enemies. "Gather every soldier we have. Empty the armories. I want the estate locked down, and I want the transport vehicles loaded."
"We are hitting someone, Boss?" Silas asked, sensing the massive shift in the syndicate's posture.
"We are hitting everyone," Vincent stated coldly. "The peace treaty with the New York Commission is officially terminated. They murdered my father. They stole my wife. By sunrise, I want the heads of the Five Families delivered to my front door."
"Understood, Boss. We go to war," Silas confirmed before the line clicked dead.
Vincent lowered the phone. He looked back down at Evelyn. She was battered, starved, and broken, but the fierce light of survival still burned in her eyes. He reached down and gently lifted her back into his arms.
"Come," Vincent said softly, carrying his wife out of the memorial room. "Let us go find our daughter. The monsters are finally dead."
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But as he carried her down the bright, cinematic hallway of the estate, the heavy security alarms of the mansion suddenly began to wail. The piercing, high-pitched sirens echoed off the marble floors.
Vincent stopped, his cold eyes narrowing. The New York Commission hadn't waited for him to discover the truth. The war hadn't just been declared; it had already arrived at his front gates.
