Chapter 6 - The Spider’s Web
By 3:00 AM, the Castellano mansion was dead silent, save for the howling winter wind beating against the reinforced window panes.
Aldo Manfredi returned from the harbor docks, stepping smoothly through the grand front entrance. He loosened his silk tie, feeling untouchable. He climbed the sweeping marble staircase toward the west wing, accompanied by two of his personal enforcers—heavy-set men carrying concealed submachine guns beneath their heavy overcoats.
"Remember," Aldo instructed quietly as they reached the second-floor landing. "If the old man is unresponsive, we call the private physician immediately and announce his passing to the syndicate by dawn. If he resists... well, a dying man's heart can give out at any moment."
The enforcers nodded silently, drawing their weapons as they approached the heavy double doors of the master suite.
Aldo raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles touched the wood, the massive doors swung wide open, pulled from the inside.
There stood Dario Castellano.
He was standing completely upright, his posture rigid, the matte-black pistol gripped steadily in his right hand—the very hand that was supposed to be paralyzed by tremors. The bedside lamp cast long, dramatic shadows across his scarred face, and his dark eyes burned with an icy, terrifying fury.
Aldo froze, his color instantly draining from his face. The glass of scotch he had imagined celebrating with vanished from his mind, replaced by a sudden, paralyzing terror.
"A-Boss..." Aldo stammered, stumbling backward half a step before forcing a shaky, nervous smile. "You're... you're awake. I was just coming to check on you. We heard a commotion..."
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Dario stepped out into the hallway, the barrel of his gun pointing squarely at Aldo’s chest.
"You always were a terrible liar, Aldo," Dario said, his voice echoing smoothly down the silent corridor. "Twenty years of faithful service, and you couldn't even wait for me to die in my sleep."
