Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Trap
The boardroom on the top floor of the Caruso Grand was an architectural marvel—glass walls, mahogany tables, and a view of the city that made men feel like gods.
David Vance sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled. He was a man of impeccable tailoring and even more impeccable lies. As Vincent pushed the heavy double doors open, the room fell into a suffocating silence. The other family heads, waiting for the ‘report’ of Vincent’s demise, froze.
Vance stood up, his smile thin and oily. “Vincent! You’re late. We were just discussing the… administrative transition.”
Vincent walked toward the table. He didn't sit. He stopped behind Vance’s chair, his hand resting on the back of it like a predator testing its dinner.
“The transition?” Vincent asked.
“Well,” Vance said, glancing at the other men, who were visibly sweating. “Tragic incident in the lobby. A security breach. It seems you were… incapacitated. I was merely preparing to take over the temporary management of the Caruso assets to prevent a market collapse.”
Vincent pulled the digital recorder from his pocket and set it on the mahogany surface.
“A breach, indeed,” Vincent said. “But it seems the breach was internal.”
He tapped the play button.
The room filled with the sound of Vance’s voice, clear and treacherous, discussing the purchase of hitmen, the betrayal of the Caruso code, and the planned redistribution of the family wealth to the rival families.
Vance’s face turned from pale to grey. The other men at the table began to shift, realizing they had hitched their horses to a sinking ship. They looked at Vincent, then at the door, where Vincent’s men were now standing.
“You have no proof that’s me,” Vance hissed, though he knew the game was lost.
“The badge,” Vincent said, leaning close to Vance’s ear. “The maintenance man you sent to kill me? He was carrying a badge with your initials on the watermark. You were so clever, David. You wanted to be the executor of my estate so badly that you forgot that the help—the people you think are invisible—actually see everything.”
May you like
Vincent signaled his guards.
“Take him to the sub-basement,” Vincent ordered. “And keep him there. I want him to hear the sound of his world falling apart, piece by piece.”
