Chapter 5 - The Prescription for a Mobster
Vincenzo’s face flushed a deep, mottled crimson. The insult of being interrupted—let alone lectured—by a toddler in banana pajamas before a roomful of hardened criminals sent a shockwave through his fragile, fragile ego.
“Get this filthy brat out of my sight before I throw her out the window,” Vincenzo snarled, his hand shooting out to grab Sophie by the arm.
The air in the room didn't just change; it froze solid.
Before Vincenzo’s fingers could even brush the sleeve of Sophie’s pajamas, a shadow detached itself from the corner of the room. Dmitri Volkov moved with the terrifying speed of a striking cobra. His massive hand clamped down around Vincenzo’s wrist in a vise grip of pure, crushing pressure.
A sharp, sickening crunch of bone echoed through the study.
Vincenzo let out a strangled shriek of agony, dropping to his knees as Dmitri twisted his arm behind his back with practiced brutality. The two East Coast goons reached for their weapons, but a split second later, the study doors burst open from the outside. Viktor and four heavily armed security operatives flooded the room, their assault rifles leveled squarely at the chests of the intruders.
“Drop your weapons!” Viktor roared, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Drop them or you don't leave this estate breathing!”
The two goons slowly raised their hands, their eyes darting wildly around the room as they realized they were trapped in a cage with apex predators who didn't play by New York rules.
Vincenzo writhed on the floor, sweat pouring down his face as Dmitri held him in a agonizing lock. “You’re... you’re making a war, Petrov,” Vincenzo choked out, gasping for air. “The families won't let this go... New York will burn your warehouses to ash—”
Alexei slowly stood up from his desk. He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, smoothing the fabric with slow, deliberate precision. He walked around the mahogany desk until he was standing right over Vincenzo, towering above him like a monument of retribution.
“New York can try,” Alexei whispered, his voice dangerously quiet, carrying the cold weight of a death sentence. “But let me explain something to you, Vincenzo. You came into my house. You insulted my staff. And most importantly...”
Alexei glanced down at Sophie, who was currently examining her teddy bear’s paw with complete indifference.
“...you interrupted her bedtime routine.”
Alexei signaled with a flick of his wrist. Dmitri hauled Vincenzo up by his collar like a ragdoll and shoved him toward the door, his two goons backing away frantically with their hands raised.
“Get them off my property,” Alexei ordered coldly. “And if Vincenzo’s face ever appears on my security monitors again, feed him to the guard dogs.”
As the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind the retreating mobsters, the study returned to an eerie, breathless silence.
Maria rushed into the room, her face pale with terror as she dropped to her knees beside her daughter. “Sophie! Oh my god, baby, are you okay? Why did you come out here?”
Sophie blinked up at her mother, completely unfazed by the armed guards and the violent confrontation that had just taken place. She pointed a sticky finger at Alexei.
“He has an angry face again,” Sophie declared, turning her critical eye back to the billionaire. “Angry faces make your heart beat too fast. You need a timeout, Mr. Petrov.”
Alexei stared down at the little girl. The cold, murderous fury that had filled his eyes a moment ago melted away, replaced by something entirely foreign—a deep, resounding warmth.
He slowly knelt down on one knee, ignoring the dirt on the rug, until he was eye-level with Sophie.
“You’re right, Doctor,” Alexei said softly, a genuine, tired smile touching his lips. “My heart was beating too fast. Do you have a prescription for that?”
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Sophie reached into the pocket of her banana pajamas, pulled out a multicolored plastic band-aid, and carefully pressed it onto the back of Alexei’s hand.
“There,” she said with finality. “All fixed.”
