Chapter 5 - The Investigation Deepens
Back at the Rinaldi estate, Matteo sat behind his massive mahogany desk in his private study. The room smelled of old leather, pipe tobacco, and polished cedar. Across from him stood Luca, looking distinctly uneasy as he slid a fresh manila folder onto the blotter.
“You were right, Boss,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a cautious tone. “Elena Bellini’s husband didn’t just die in a workplace accident. It was engineered.”
Matteo’s pen stopped mid-stroke. He looked up, his dark eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Engineered by whom?”
“A mid-level contractor named Vincenzo Moretti,” Luca replied, opening the folder to reveal a series of financial statements and corporate registry documents. “Moretti was subcontracting for one of our own logistics fronts. Marco Bellini discovered that Moretti was cutting corners on structural reinforcements to pocket the difference. Marco threatened to go to the labor union and the local authorities.”
A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the study. Matteo’s jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. “And Moretti silenced him.”
“An engineered mechanical failure on a heavy lift,” Luca confirmed. “The local police were paid off. Moretti declared bankruptcy the next day, transferred all his assets to offshore accounts, and walked away scot-free. He’s currently operating out of a warehouse in the industrial docks, running low-level smuggling rings under our radar.”
Matteo slowly stood up from his leather chair. He walked over to the tall arched window overlooking the manicured gardens of the estate. The sunlight hit the glass, but there was no warmth in his expression. Only a cold, absolute fury.
“Under our radar,” Matteo repeated softly. “In my city. Using my logistical network as a shield.”
“Shall I send a crew to bring him in, Boss?” Luca asked, stepping forward, his hand instinctively resting near his holster. “We can settle the account before nightfall.”
“No,” Matteo said, turning around with a look of terrifying calm. “Bringing him in is too easy. A clean bullet is a mercy he doesn’t deserve. Moretti destroyed a father, starved a mother, and forced a four-year-old child to ration a single boiled egg.”
Matteo walked back to his desk, picked up his gold fountain pen, and slid the folder toward Luca.
“Strip him of everything,” Matteo ordered, his voice like cracking ice. “Freeze his accounts, repossess his warehouses, dismantle his smuggling rings piece by piece, and make sure every single creditor he owes comes knocking at his door simultaneously. When he has nothing left—when he is standing in the dirt with absolute zero—bring him to the old brick warehouse by the canal. I want to introduce him to the Rinaldi family values.”
“Consider it done, Mr. Rinaldi,” Luca said, his eyes reflecting the dark resolve of his boss. He turned and strode out of the room, leaving Matteo alone with his thoughts.
May you like
Matteo walked back to the window, pulling a silver pocket watch from his vest. It was almost noon. At this exact moment, little Lia was likely walking through the park in her new crimson coat, perhaps eating a pastry instead of dry bread.
The thought brought a strange, unfamiliar warmth back into his chest. But the war for her family's justice had only just begun.
