Chapter 6 - The Spider’s Web
“Grandmother,” Vincent said, his voice dropping into a deadly, razor-sharp whisper.
So that was it. The entire conspiracy—the poisoning of little Leo, the betrayal by Uncle Simon, the aggressive push from the Chicago Outfit—it wasn't a corporate dispute between rival syndicates. It was a family war orchestrated by the matriarch herself, who believed Vincent had grown too powerful, too independent of the old traditions.
“You look surprised, my boy,” Eleanor said, stepping forward with surprising agility for her age, leaning lightly on the silver-handled cane. “Power cannot be trusted in the hands of a man who lets a diner waitress change his moral compass.”
She turned her cold, analytical gaze directly onto Celia.
“Celia Jace,” Eleanor recited effortlessly. “Twenty-four years old. Mother dying of cancer. You thought you hit the jackpot when Vincent wired you seventy thousand dollars, didn't you? But you walked right into a mausoleum.”
Celia stood tall, refusing to shrink under the old woman’s terrifying gaze. She had spent three years dealing with abusive diner managers, debt collectors, and the crushing weight of poverty. She wasn't going to cower before a geriatric mob boss.
“I didn't ask for any of this,” Celia said steadily, her voice ringing clear across the cavernous library. “I just wanted to work my shifts and pay my bills. But if you think I’m going to stand here and let you threaten a sick child while you play chess with people’s lives, you’re gravely mistaken.”
Marcus burst out laughing, slamming his fist onto the arm of his chair. “Listen to the waitress! The little stray has teeth!”
“She has something much more dangerous than teeth, Marcus,” Elena Vance’s voice cut in sharply as she emerged from the shadows behind her mother. Elena held her military tablet up high, the screen flashing with lines of green code. “She has an encrypted drive.”
Vincent’s head snapped toward Elena. “What did you say?”
“While you were busy playing bodyguard in New York, little Celia here didn't just call your phone,” Elena smirked, tapping the screen. “When she picked up Leo’s phone in the alley, she accidentally brushed the emergency broadcast shortcut—a feature built into every high-end corporate device given to Romano heirs. It didn't just call you, Vincent. It recorded an open audio stream of the entire alley conversation, including Uncle Simon confessing to the poisoning and detailing the entire Chicago takeover plan.”
Silence fell over the room so heavy that the crackle of the fireplace sounded like a roaring bonfire.
Marcus’s smile vanished. He stared at Celia in sudden, unadulterated horror.
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“Where is the drive?” Marcus snarled, standing up to his full, towering height and drawing a heavy-caliber revolver from his belt. “Give it to me, or I will put a bullet through the boy’s head right now.”
Before Marcus could even raise the barrel, the heavy oak doors of the library blew inward with a deafening explosion.
