Chapter 8 - The Penthouse Trap
The color drained entirely from Matteo’s face. For five seconds, the sophisticated, untouchable heir to the Vitelli syndicate looked like a ghost had risen through the floorboards.
"A-Antonio..." Matteo stammered, taking an involuntary step backward. "You... the hospital in Dublin reported..."
"That I was dead?" Antonio finished the sentence for him, his voice smooth, deadly, and entirely devoid of warmth. He stepped out of the elevator, moving across the hardwood floor with a steady, unhurried stride. He didn't need his cane; he held it loosely in his right hand like a riding crop. "Reports of my demise, dear cousin, have been greatly exaggerated by your PR department."
Salvatore reached frantically for his gun, but two suppressed pistols clicked simultaneously from behind the elevator pillars as Antonio's loyal security detail emerged from the shaft. Salvatore froze, his hands hovering inches from his holster.
Matteo forced his features back into a semblance of control, lifting his chin. "You're too late, Antonio. Even if you survived the flight, the capos are already gathering for Friday's council. The family council has voted. The transition of power was set in motion the moment your plane touched down in Ireland."
"The family council," Antonio repeated, stopping two paces from Matteo. "You mean the three district bosses you bribed with promises of my shipping routes?"
Matteo’s eyes darted toward the elevator, calculating odds that no longer existed. Then his gaze snapped to Evelyn, who had stepped away from the table, slipping off her wire-rimmed glasses and letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders.
Matteo stared at her, recognition striking him like a physical blow.
"The flight attendant," Matteo whispered, horror dawning in his eyes. "You... you brought her here?"
"She didn't come as a victim, Matteo," Antonio said softly. "She came as an auditor."
Evelyn stepped forward, her voice cutting through the heavy air of the penthouse like a scalpel. "And your audit failed, Mr. Vitelli. Because the cryptographic signature on the poison vial in your private laboratory matched the IP address of your personal offshore account in the Caymans."
Matteo’s jaw tightened. All pretense of polite civility vanished. His face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. "You arrogant little bitch," he hissed, lunging forward with a concealed switchblade pulled from his sleeve.
It happened in less than a heartbeat.
Before Matteo could take two steps, Antonio moved with terrifying speed. The ebony cane whipped through the air in a lightning-fast arc, catching Matteo squarely across the wrist. The knife clattered loudly against the marble floor.
Before Matteo could cry out, Antonio’s hand shot out, grabbing his cousin by the lapels of his expensive Tom Ford suit and slamming him back against the floor-to-ceiling glass window. The glass bowed outward under the impact, thirty-five floors above Central Park.
"You tried to kill me in the air," Antonio whispered, his face inches from Matteo’s, his dark eyes burning with an intense, frozen fire. "You tried to frame an innocent woman. And you thought you could inherit my name."
Matteo choked for breath, his hands clawing uselessly at Antonio’s wrists. "Antonio... please... we’re family..."
"Family," Antonio repeated, the word tasting like poison in his mouth. He slowly loosened his grip, letting Matteo slump gasping against the glass. Antonio stepped back, straightening his cuffs. "Marco. Call the council capos. Tell them the meeting on Friday has been moved to tonight. And bring Matteo's encrypted ledger."
Marco nodded sharply, signaling the guards. Salvatore was disarmed and cuffed within seconds. As Matteo was hauled roughly to his feet, dragged toward the elevator by his arms, he cast one final, venomous glare over his shoulder—not at Antonio, but straight at Evelyn.
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"You think this is over?" Matteo snarled, blood trickling from his lip. "The syndicate doesn't end with me! There are others who want his head, and your face is already on every dark-web terminal from here to Palermo!"
The elevator doors closed, cutting off his voice.
