Chapter 7 - The Interrogation in the CellarBy midnight, the grand estate was completely silent.
Deep down in the underground stone cellars, far away from the polished marble halls and the rose gardens, a single incandescent bulb swung gently from a frayed wire.
Marco hung suspended by his wrists from heavy iron shackles anchored into the stone wall. His expensive suit was torn, his face battered, and blood trickled from a split lip.
Alessandro stood before him, rolling up his sleeves. He held a thick ledger filled with financial records seized from Marco’s private offshore accounts.
“The Chicago syndicate,” Alessandro read aloud, flipping a page. “They promised you fifty percent of the eastern seaboard ports if you eliminated me and took control of Moretti Enterprises. Am I correct?”
Marco spat blood onto the cold concrete floor, letting out a hoarse, defiant laugh. “Do it, Alessandro. Put a bullet in my head. End it.”
“End it?” Alessandro dropped the ledger. “No, Marco. Death is too kind for a traitor. You’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security black site where no one will ever hear your name again. Your assets are frozen. Your syndicates have already pledged allegiance to me. You are a ghost, long before you even die.”
As Alessandro turned and walked toward the heavy iron exit door, Marco screamed out in absolute despair.
“You’ll never find peace, Alessandro! Your hands are stained with blood, and no little girl’s cake will ever wash it clean!”
May you like
Alessandro paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder with eyes colder than winter steel.
“Maybe not,” Alessandro said softly. “But at least I know who baked the poison out of my house.”
