Chapter 9 - The shadow commission
The sheer magnitude of the betrayal echoed through the quiet room. The legendary Vincent Belladonna, the man who controlled the city's underworld, had been nothing but a frontman for a ghost.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of Eleanor's bedroom burst open.
Four of Vincent's most trusted security guards stepped into the room. Their tailored suits shifted as they raised their custom firearms, but they did not aim at the doorway. They aimed directly at Vincent.
Vincent did not flinch. His terrifying composure held absolute. He stood tall, his broad shoulders shielding his frail mother, his dark eyes locking onto the captain of his guard.
“Put the guns down, Marcus,” Vincent commanded, his American accent smooth and chillingly authoritative.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” Marcus replied, his fair face tight with genuine regret. “But we take our orders from the true head of the family. He activated the protocol ten minutes ago.”
Vincent realized the depth of his father's roots. The ghost hadn't just been living in the basement; he had been paying the guards, pulling the strings of the empire, waiting for the perfect moment to step back into the light.
“He used Celeste to trigger the journals,” Vincent said, analyzing the tactical board in his mind at lightning speed. “He wanted the family destabilized. He wanted me to exile Arthur and Celeste so there would be no internal resistance when he reclaimed the throne.”
“He said you failed the test, Mr. Belladonna,” Marcus said, his hands gripping his weapon tightly. “He said a true boss would have killed Celeste for what she did to your mother. You just slapped her. You showed mercy. He says mercy is a disease.”
Vincent slowly unbuttoned his custom tuxedo jacket. The bright, cinematic sunlight streaming through the window caught the gold of his cufflinks. He looked at the men who had fought beside him for years.
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“If you pull those triggers,” Vincent said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating frequency, “you better make sure I am dead before I hit the floor. Because if I have breath in my lungs, I will tear this estate down brick by brick with my bare hands, and I will bury every single one of you in the rubble.”
The guards hesitated. The sheer, rugged dominance radiating from Vincent was overwhelming. They knew the ghost in the basement was a legend, but the man standing in front of them was a terrifying reality.
