Chapter 17 - THE MIDNIGHT CALLBy 3:00 a.m., the Manhattan penthouse was silent again, save for the hum of the cooling servers and the distant sirens echoing up from the dark streets far below.
Dante stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, tablet in hand, watching the city lights blur through the rain that had begun to mist against the glass.
“All accounts have been secured and scrubbed, boss,” Dante reported without turning around. “Vance’s syndicate has been completely dismantled. The federal authorities will find his offshore holdings frozen and his primary operatives in transit by dawn. No one will ever trace this back to us.”
Matteo stood by the terrace door, looking out into the stormy night. He held his phone in his hand, his thumb resting over the screen.
“Good,” Matteo murmured. “Arrange the return flight. We’re going home.”
“Back to the diner?” Dante asked, glancing over his shoulder with a faint, ironic smirk. “You’re the undisputed king of the global underworld again, Matteo. You could rule New York, London, and Zurich by next week if you wanted to.”
Matteo looked down at his silver wedding band, catching the reflection of the city lights against the polished metal.
“A king is only as powerful as the kingdom he chooses to protect,” Matteo said quietly. “And my kingdom has a neon sign that says Open.”
He dialed the number.
It rang twice before a soft, familiar voice answered on the other end, breathing quietly through the receiver.
“Matteo?”
Her voice was steady, warm, and entirely untouched by the chaos of Manhattan.
May you like
“I’m coming home, Lena,” he said, his voice losing its terrifying underworld edge, softening into the gentle tone of a husband returning to his wife.
“Hurry,” she whispered softly. “The coffee pot is still warm.”
