Chapter 14 - The Bitter AlleywayValentino Visconti sat on a damp, rusted milk crate behind a 24-hour diner in Queens, nursing a paper cup of lukewarm tap water.
His designer suit was now a stained, rumpled rag. His face was covered in a thick, unkempt beard, and his hands shook uncontrollably from caffeine withdrawal and chronic stress.
A folded-up newspaper lay on the asphalt beside his foot, opened to the article detailing Elena’s triumph at Vance Logistics.
He picked it up, his bloodshot eyes tracing the words over and over again.
Chairwoman. Tycoon. Vanguard Heir.
Every title belonged to her. Every shipping lane, every warehouse, every dollar he had scraped and fought to control for a decade was now legally locked inside the trust of the woman he had tried to discard like trash.
"Hey! You can't loiter by the back door, pal! Move it!" a kitchen worker shouted, shoving the back door open and splashing dirty dishwater near Valentino's boots.
May you like
Valentino flinched. He didn't yell back. He didn't threaten to have the worker executed, as he would have done six months ago.
He simply stood up, his joints aching from the bitter cold, hoisted his meager belongings into a plastic trash bag, and shuffled down the dark, narrow alleyway into the anonymous shadows of the city.
