Chapter 2 - The House of Glass and Shadows
Panic did not erupt in the grand hall. Men of the Moretti syndicate and high-ranking political figures did not scream; they reacted.
Within seconds, four armed guards in tailored tuxedos materialized from the doorways, their submachine guns drawn, forming a perimeter around the cake table. On the other side of the room, several businessmen instinctively reached inside their jackets, while others backed away in absolute horror.
"Three minutes and forty seconds," muttered Marcus Vance, Alessandro’s longtime consigliere and oldest friend, stepping forward with sweat beading on his forehead. "Boss, we need to get the bomb squad in here right now, or get everyone out into the courtyard."
"There is no time for the bomb squad," Alessandro said coldly, his eyes scanning the faces of the terrified elite. "The perimeter is locked, which means whoever set this is standing right here in this room. If we move everyone outside into the open, we give the bomber a clear shot in the rain. We stay right here. And we find the traitor."
Ethan was quickly ushered out of the room by two trusted bodyguards, his wide eyes looking back at his father one last time.
Alessandro turned his attention back to the ticking device. He didn't panic. Fear was a luxury for people who didn't control the board. Instead, his mind raced back to Lily’s words: “There was a man... He was on the phone. He said, ‘I did exactly what you asked.’”
"Marcus," Alessandro commanded quietly. "Lock down the security room. Pull the digital surveillance footage from the kitchen corridor for the last thirty minutes. I want to see every single person who walked down that hall."
"On it," Marcus said, pulling out his encrypted satellite phone. He dialed three digits, pressed it to his ear, and frowned. "Strange... the line is dead. The internal comms are down."
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
It wasn't just a bomb in a cake.
It was an inside job backed by a synchronized digital blackout. The traitor hadn't just planted explosives; they had cut the estate’s communication lines from the inside.
"Nobody moves an inch," Alessandro shouted over the murmurs of the crowd, stepping away from the cake with the timer now ticking down to 02:15. "Every single person in this room is now a suspect. Marcus, check the security feeds manually from the local terminal in the study. Now!"
As Marcus sprinted toward the private study down the hall, Alessandro walked slowly along the edge of the crowd, his gaze piercing through every facade of wealth and power.
May you like
Politicians avoided his eyes. Rival family heads feigned outrage. Old friends looked away.
Someone in this room had sold out a child's birthday. And Alessandro Moretti was going to rip their world apart to find out who.
