Chapter 5 - The Architect
The elegant, unmistakable cursive handwriting proudly spelling out the name at the top of the multi-million dollar ledger belonged to Eleanor Moretti.
My own sweet, seemingly innocent mother was the undisputed architect of my brother's brutal assassination and the supreme ruler of the entire criminal underworld.
I slammed aggressively on the heavy brakes, sending the vintage muscle car into a violent, screeching skid that ended in an empty, snow-covered industrial parking lot.
I screamed wildly at Matteo, violently calling him a manipulative liar and aggressively demanding that he take back the horrific accusation against our family matriarch.
Beatrice bravely reached out from the backseat and softly placed her trembling hand on my tense shoulder, begging me to rationally look at the offshore account routing numbers.
The specific dates of the massive, untraceable wire transfers perfectly matched the exact day of Matteo's supposed tragic car bombing twelve years ago.
My grieving mother had systematically funded Lorenzo's bloody rise to power, masterfully using my blinding rage to manipulate me into becoming her ultimate, unthinking enforcer.
I had spent my entire adult life systematically executing my mother's business rivals under the pathetic, egotistical illusion that I was actually the one calling the shots.
Matteo quietly explained that she had always demanded absolute, unquestioning control over the syndicate, and he had fundamentally refused to bend the knee to her tyranny.
A blinding, all-consuming rage rapidly replaced the freezing chill in my veins, burning hotter and brighter than a thousand scorching suns.
I forcefully threw the idling car back into drive, my knuckles turning completely white as I gripped the leather steering wheel with lethal intent.
We were absolutely not just going to aggressively breach the heavily fortified compound to save Beatrice's innocent daughter tonight.
We were going to violently burn this entire false, parasitic empire completely down to the ground and salt the earth it was built upon.
May you like
As we rapidly approached the heavily guarded wrought-iron gates of my own sprawling estate, my encrypted dashboard console began ringing persistently.
It was my mother's private line, and when I answered, her cold, aristocratic voice whispered softly that she had been patiently waiting for me to finally open my useless eyes.
