Chapter 6 - Identifying the Uncle's Greed
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By nightfall, the massive estate felt like a powder keg waiting for a spark. Aleandro sat at the head of the long dining table, his face a mask of polite, terrifying indifference. Silvio sat halfway down the table, drinking expensive Barolo and boasting about the week's collections from the eastern districts.
"The unions are falling in line, Aleandro," Silvio laughed, waving his fork. "They know better than to push back against our new tariffs. We're bleeding them beautifully."
Aleandro took a slow sip of his wine. He stared at his cousin, watching the way Silvio’s eyes darted nervously toward the doors whenever a guard entered. Silvio was loud, arrogant, and hiding a profound, suffocating panic.
"You've done well, Silvio," Aleandro said smoothly. "But I've noticed a discrepancy in the ledger from the docks. A shipment of untraceable pharmaceuticals vanished three nights ago. The exact same night our housekeeper decided to abandon her child."
Silvio’s wine glass stopped an inch from his mouth. His silver fork clattered slightly against his porcelain plate. It was a microscopic physical reaction, but to a predator like Aleandro, it was a screaming confession.
"A coincidence, surely," Silvio recovered quickly, forcing a smile. "Maids come and go. The shipment was likely hijacked by the Russian factions."
"Perhaps," Aleandro murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Or perhaps a rat in my own house decided to steal my cargo, and the maid had the misfortune of cleaning the room while the rat was counting his stolen cheese."
Silvio swallowed hard, his face paling. "If you suspect a traitor, cousin, give me the word. I will tear the city apart to find him."
"Oh, you won't have to look far," Aleandro promised softly. "I am handling the investigation personally."
Later that night, Marco slipped into Aleandro’s private quarters. He handed over a secure tablet displaying satellite tracking data.
"You were right, Boss," Marco reported grimly. "Silvio’s personal SUV went off the grid for exactly four hours on the night Elena vanished. The GPS tracker was manually disabled. But he forgot about the secondary transponder embedded in the chassis. He drove to an abandoned textile warehouse out by the old shipyards."
Aleandro looked at the map on the screen. The red dot blinked ominously near the edge of the water.
"He's been holding her there for four days," Aleandro whispered, a cold, violent rage rising in his chest. "Four days in the freezing damp."
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"I can assemble a strike team in twenty minutes," Marco said, checking his weapon.
"No," Aleandro commanded, standing up and opening his personal weapons vault. "If we send a team, Silvio’s men will panic and execute her before we breach the door. We do this quietly. Just you and me, Marco. We bring her home."
