Chapter 15 - The Dinner of the Damned
Within three hours, Julian Vance sat across from Massimo and me at the long mahogany dining table in the mansion’s grand hall. Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, glittering light over silver cutlery, roasted meats, and expensive wine.
Julian looked completely at ease, cutting a piece of steak with practiced elegance, utterly unaware that we had cracked his digital signature.
“An exquisite vintage, Massimo,” Julian noted, swirling his glass of red wine. “To what do I owe the sudden honor of a private dinner? Usually, you only call when the feds are kicking down the doors.”
“Julian, my dear lawyer,” Massimo began, his voice dangerously smooth as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Tell me, under Massachusetts law, what is the penalty for treason within a registered corporation?”
Julian’s hand paused halfway to his mouth. A microscopic twitch of his left eye betrayed him. He forced a thin, oily smile.
“That’s a rather grim topic for dinner, Massimo. Unless, of course, you’ve discovered something... inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” Massimo’s voice suddenly exploded with the force of a thunderclap. He slammed his fist down on the table, making the silverware dance. “You sold my logistics to Chicago! You funded Viktor and Camila’s attempt to keep me paralyzed in that chair!”
Julian didn't flinch. Instead, he dropped his fork, leaned back in his chair, and let out a cold, calculating laugh.
“And if I did? You’re getting soft, Massimo. You wanted to legitimize the family, hand the keys over to a physical therapist, and turn a multi-million-dollar empire into a real estate firm. Some of us actually want to make money.”
May you like
Before Julian could finish his sentence, the heavy oak doors burst open, and four armed guards swarmed the room, pressing cold steel against Julian’s temples.
Julian’s arrogant smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of sheer terror.
