Chapter 6 - THE FAMILY DINNERSunday night arrived with a torrential downpour that lashed the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the penthouse, making Manhattan look like a watercolor painting dissolving in gray tears.
The long dining table was set for three. Silver candlesticks cast long, dancing shadows across the mahogany surface. Crystal wine glasses gleamed under the chandelier.
At the head of the table sat Enzo, cool, collected, and dressed in a tailored three-piece suit that looked like ceremonial armor. I sat to his right, wearing a sleek black dress that felt less like evening wear and more like mourning robes for the men about to fall. And lying quietly beneath the table, completely unseen by our upcoming guest, was Cerberus—his nose resting on my shoes, breathing with slow, heavy menace.
The private elevator chime sounded.
The double doors slid open, and Senator Julian Dante stepped into the penthouse, shaking the rain from an expensive umbrella with a practiced, politician’s smile.
"Enzo, my boy!" Julian boomed, his silver hair immaculate, his tailored navy suit fitting his lean frame like a second skin. "I got your message. Though I must say, hosting a family dinner on short notice with your new... catering employee present... is rather unconventional."
Julian stepped further into the dining room, his sharp eyes scanning the room before locking onto me with a patronizing, politically polished grin.
"And Miss... Elena, isn't it? What a delightful surprise. I hear you've been helping my nephew with his financial portfolio. Quite a leap from serving canapés to managing multi-million-dollar ledgers, wouldn't you say?"
Enzo didn't stand up. He didn't smile. He simply picked up his wine glass, swirled the dark red liquid, and gestured to the empty seat directly opposite us.
"Sit down, Uncle," Enzo said, his voice flat as a frozen lake. "We have a lot to discuss. Starting with the municipal port expansion contracts from seven years ago."
Julian’s smile didn't drop, but the skin around his eyes tightened imperceptibly—just a fraction of a millimeter. He pulled out the chair and sat down slowly, resting his manicured hands on the table.
"Ah, the port expansion," Julian chuckled, a smooth, practiced sound that lacked any real humor. "Always a thorny political issue. Lots of red tape, lots of oversight. Why bring up ancient history, Enzo? We should be focusing on my upcoming gubernatorial announcement."
"Because history has a habit of biting back," I said quietly.
I reached out and slid a thick manila folder across the mahogany table. It stopped right in front of Julian’s plate, beside his silver fork.
Julian looked down at the folder, then back up at us, his expression cooling from avuncular charm into something hard, brittle, and predatory.
"What is this?" Julian asked, his voice losing its political warmth.
"Open it," Enzo commanded.
Julian slowly opened the folder. His eyes scanned the first page—bank transfers, shell corporation routing numbers, signature approvals, and finally, a signed authorization memo dated seven years ago, ordering the destruction of a certain New Jersey mechanic's workshop to silence an unauthorized audit.
The color drained entirely from Julian’s face, leaving him looking like an old man carved out of chalk.
"This... this is fabricated," Julian stammered, his political armor cracking instantly under the weight of concrete evidence. "Enzo, you can't possibly believe—"
"Marcus Vance signed a full confession before he died, Uncle," Enzo interrupted, leaning forward across the table, resting his forearms on the wood. "And before you ask—yes, he told us everything about how you used his offshore accounts to bury the audit and burn down a grieving family's home."
Julian stared at the papers, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid gasps. The polished politician was gone; in his place was a cornered rat realizing the trap had finally snapped shut.
"You can't touch me," Julian hissed, venom leaking into his voice as he stood up so fast his chair screeched against the marble floor. "I am a United States Senator! The federal prosecutor is in my pocket! If I go down, I bring your entire syndicate down with me in a blaze of federal indictments!"
"Try it," Enzo said calmly, not even blinking. "The federal prosecutors already have copies of this file. Delivered anonymously an hour ago by one of my most trusted couriers."
Julian’s eyes widened in absolute, unadulterated horror.
"You... you betrayed your own blood," Julian whispered, backing away from the table.
May you like
"You killed mine first," Enzo replied softly.
And then, beneath the table, Cerberus gave a low, rumbling growl.
