Chapter 2 - The Snake in the Mansion
The Caruso estate in Long Island sat on thirty acres of manicured lawns and thick pine woods, surrounded by a twelve-foot stone wall fitted with motion sensors and security cameras.
In the grand dining room, beneath a crystal chandelier that cast a warm light over mahogany furniture, Victoria Caruso sat at the head of the table.
She wore a sleek black silk dress that emphasized her pale skin and slender figure. She was cutting a rare filet mignon with precise, quiet movements.
Across from her sat Marco Caruso—Dominic’s younger brother. Marco was thirty-four, handsome in a rough, restless way, with the same amber eyes as Dominic, but lacking his older brother's absolute control and terrifying calm.
"Where is he?" Marco asked, pouring himself a third glass of barolo wine.
"Where do you think?" Victoria replied softly, not looking up from her plate. "He went to the cemetery again."
Marco swore under his breath, setting his glass down hard enough to splash red wine onto the white linen tablecloth. "It’s been two months, Victoria. He sits in his study all day looking at her drawings. He doesn't go to the sit-downs. He hasn't collected the protection dues from the Garment District in three weeks. The street bosses are getting restless. They think he’s lost his mind."
Victoria set her knife and fork down with a delicate clack. She looked at Marco with a cold, calculating smile.
"That is precisely what we want them to think, Marco," she said smoothly. "A weak Don creates a vacuum. The street bosses are already coming to you for decisions."
"It's not moving fast enough," Marco growled, leaning forward over the table. "The Capos still respect him too much. If I try to force a vote of confidence without the dock distribution rights, half the family will side with Dominic out of sheer habit."
"Then we accelerate the plan," Victoria said, leaning back in her chair and sipping her wine. "Dominic’s spirit is completely broken. He believes his daughter burned to death. Every time he looks at me, he feels guilty because I was 'supposed' to be at the cabin protecting her."
She let out a soft, amused laugh.
"He gave me fifty percent of the shipping company stock yesterday as a gift," Victoria added, her eyes glinting. "He said he wanted to make sure I was taken care of in case anything happened to him."
Marco stared at her, a mixture of admiration and fear in his eyes. "You're a sociopath, Victoria."
"I am a realist, Marco," she corrected him coldly. "Your brother kept you in his shadow for fifteen years. He treated you like a lieutenant while he built an empire. Now he’s a hollow shell mourning a dead child. We give him another two weeks. Once the dock deeds are fully transferred into your name, we end it."
"And the girl?" Marco asked in a low whisper, his eyes flicking toward the dining room doorway to ensure no servants were listening. "Is she still secure in Brooklyn?"
"Jimmy checked on her this morning," Victoria said smoothly. "She’s locked in the basement. Cold, quiet, and out of the way. Once we have the deeds, Jimmy will take care of her permanently. No body, no evidence, no complications."
The heavy oak doors of the dining room swung open.
Dominic walked inside.
He was still wearing his damp suit jacket, his dark hair soaked with rain, his face hollow, tired, and pale. He looked at Marco and Victoria with empty, dead eyes that seemed to view the world through a thick veil of ash.
Victoria’s expression instantly transformed. Her cold, predatory smile vanished, replaced by an expression of deep, tragic grief and tender concern. She jumped up from her seat, rushing across the room to wrap her arms around his waist.
"Oh, Dominic, darling," Victoria cooed, resting her cheek against his damp chest. "You were at the cemetery again, wasn't you? You're soaking wet. You're going to make yourself sick."
Dominic didn't hug her back, but he didn't push her away either. He let his arms hang limply at his sides, his eyes staring blankly at the wall behind her.
"I miss her, Victoria," Dominic said, his voice flat, hollow, devoid of life.
"I know, my love. I know," Victoria whispered, stroking his shoulder. "I miss her every second of the day too. It should have been me in that cabin."
Marco stood up from the table, putting on an expression of grave brotherhood. "Dominic. Sit down. Eat something. Let me handle the meeting with the Moretti family tomorrow. You need rest."
Dominic slowly turned his head toward his brother. "The Morettis want the East River docks, Marco. They've been pushing for three years."
"I know," Marco said smoothly. "That's why I'm going to handle them. I’ll sign the temporary management transfer so they back off until you're feeling better."
Dominic stood silent for a long moment. A year ago, he would have broken the jaw of anyone who suggested handing over a single square foot of Caruso territory. But today, the fire inside him was gone. He felt cold, empty, and utterly indifferent to who owned the docks or who ruled the city.
"Do whatever you want, Marco," Dominic said quietly, stepping around Victoria and walking toward the grand staircase. "I'm going to my study."
May you like
Victoria and Marco exchanged a fast, victorious glance behind his back.
Neither of them noticed the small, dark figure crouching outside the tall bay window of the dining room, pressed flat against the damp ivy wall, watching every single move they made.
