Chapter 17 - The Viper's Nest
|
Silas’s arrogant smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, plastering on a look of fake, condescending pity.
"Damian," Silas said loudly, stepping away from the head of the table. "You shouldn't be out of bed, cousin. You’re confusing yourself. Let the nurse take you back to your room."
Vivian rushed forward, playing the role of the tragic, caring fiancée for the audience of mobsters. "Darling, please. The doctors said the stress is bad for your heart. You need to rest."
She reached out to grab the handles of his wheelchair, intending to pull him backward.
Before her fingers could even touch the metal, Maya stepped aggressively between Vivian and the chair. Maya didn't shrink away. She locked eyes with the woman who had threatened her family and firmly swatted Vivian’s hands away.
"Do not touch his chair," Maya said, her voice echoing clearly in the silent hall.
Vivian gasped, her face flushing with humiliated rage. "You insolent little bitch! How dare you—"
"Silence."
Damian’s command was not loud, but it cut through the room like a physical blade. Vivian instantly snapped her mouth shut, stepping backward.
Damian looked around the long mahogany table, making eye contact with every single capo in the room. He let the heavy, suffocating silence stretch until the tension was unbearable.
"My cousin tells you my mind is broken," Damian finally spoke, his voice smooth and deadly. "He tells you I am stepping down. But what he failed to mention is that while I was lying in a hospital bed, he was busy transferring five million dollars of syndicate money from our Cayman accounts into a private holding firm under his own name."
A shockwave rippled through the room. The capos turned to look at Silas, their expressions hardening from respect to sudden, violent suspicion.
"That is a lie!" Silas shouted, panic finally bleeding into his voice. "He’s delusional! The medication is making him paranoid!"
May you like
"Is it?" Carlo asked, pulling a thick manila folder from his jacket and tossing it onto the table. "I have the routing numbers right here, Silas. Your signature is on the transfers."
Silas stared at the folder, the color draining completely from his face. The trap had snapped shut.
