Chapter 5 - The Judgment of the House
The silence in the grand parlor was absolute. Salvo knelt on the polished marble, his face pressed against the floor, weeping and begging for mercy in a pathetic display that sickened everyone in the room.
"Mercy," I repeated the word slowly, letting it hang in the air. "You showed no mercy to Elena when you threw her and her daughter out into the rain. You showed no respect for the roof that fed you and clothed you."
I turned to Matteo. "Take his keys, his accounts, and every asset registered in his name. Strip him of his title, his rank, and his protection."
"And what about him, boss?" Matteo asked, casting a cold glance down at the cowering traitor.
"Put him on a cargo ship leaving for South America tonight," I ordered, my voice hard as iron. "If he ever sets foot on European soil again, make sure he doesn't make it past the docks."
Salvo let out a muffled sob as two of Matteo’s men hauled him up by his arms, dragging him out of the room like a sack of garbage. His former lieutenants stood frozen, staring at the floor, knowing their own loyalty was now under the microscope, though they had done nothing to aid him.
"Clear the room," I commanded the rest of the men.
Within seconds, the parlor was empty, save for Matteo and me. The morning sun was finally breaking over the cliffs, casting long golden rays across the room, illuminating the shattered glass on the floor.
"You walked away from two hundred million euros, Nico," Matteo said quietly, pouring himself a glass of water from the sideboard. "The Neapolitans are furious. They think you insulted their entire delegation."
"Let them think what they want," I replied, walking over to the window to look out at the sea. "Money can always be made. Trust, once broken by a viper in your own house, can never be bought back."
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"What about the estate?" Matteo asked. "Things are going to feel different around here."
"Good," I said. "Different is what we need."
