Chapter 14 - The Trap Is Sprung|
Santino did not flinch immediately. Like Dante, he had lived eighty percent of his life in the shadows of organized crime, learning stillness as a survival skill.
“Dante,” Santino said softly, keeping his voice light so the nearby judge wouldn't hear. “You’re talking nonsense. I loved your father like a brother.”
“You loved his money,” Dante corrected calmly. “Seven years ago, when Marco found out about the port bribes, he didn't go to the Russo family first. He came to you.”
Santino’s breath caught in his throat.
“Marco trusted you, Uncle,” Dante continued, his gray eyes devoid of all warmth. “And you sold his route to Carmine Russo for a ten percent cut of the Panama shipping revenues.”
Santino looked around the crowded terrace. Four of Dante’s most loyal bodyguards had quietly stepped into position behind him, blocking every exit down the marble steps.
“You have no proof,” Santino whispered, his grandfatherly persona slipping away, revealing the cold, calculating snake underneath. “The Capos won't let you touch a senior family member without proof.”
Dante reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small black micro-cassette recorder.
He pressed play.
Isabella’s voice echoed softly from the small speaker: “Uncle Santino opened the study for me while Dante was at the docks. He gave me the scan specs for the seal in exchange for two million in the Zurich account.”
Santino’s face turned gray. The silver prosecco glass slipped from his fingers, shattering across the polished marble terrace—echoing the exact sound of a falling mask.
“Dante... listen to me,” Santino pleaded, stepping back against the stone balustrade. “We can make a deal! I have connections in Washington—”
“You broke the oath of blood, Santino,” Dante whispered.
May you like
Two guards stepped forward, politely grasping Santino by his arms as if escorting an elderly relative who had taken ill.
“Enjoy the music, Uncle,” Dante said, turning back to face the sunny lawn. “Your car is waiting in the basement.”
