Chapter 4
The silence in the private science museum was absolute. The bright video colors of the interactive displays—the deep blues of the kinetic orbit, the vibrant reds of the magnetic tiles—seemed to mock the dark, lethal reality unfolding on the carpet. Rocco Moretti stood like a statue of vengeance, his broad shoulders squared, his hands resting casually at his sides.
"You came to my home. After midnight," Rocco stated. His voice was not a shout. It was a freezing, dead-calm whisper that carried effortlessly to the ears of every capo in the room.
Adrian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the collar of his expensive dress shirt. "Rocco, please. It's not what you think. We were discussing syndicate business. Celeste was worried about your stress levels. It was innocent."
"Innocent," Rocco repeated, the word tasting like ash. "You discuss innocent syndicate business in the dark, with my fiancée, while systematically blinding and locking up my four-year-old daughter?"
"Rocco, I swear to God!" Celeste wept, her elegant formal gown rustling as she took a desperate step toward him. The heavy engagement ring on her finger flashed in the natural light. "It was just a momentary lapse of judgment! We didn't want to bother you! You work so hard!"
"Do not insult my intelligence, Celeste," Rocco said, his gaze shifting to her with the intensity of a physical strike. "And do not take another step toward me, or I will let my men tear you apart right here on the carpet."
Celeste froze, tears of genuine terror spilling over her rosy cheeks, ruining her flawless makeup. She looked at the bodyguards lining the walls, realizing that not a single man would step in to save her. They belonged entirely to Rocco.
Adrian realized the same thing. The doors were too far. The bodyguards were too heavily armed. The only way he was leaving this room alive was by eliminating the only witness who could provide details of what they were actually doing in the dark. If Rocco found out the true nature of their midnight meetings, death would be a mercy.
Driven by a blinding, suicidal panic, Adrian’s eyes locked onto the spare glasses resting on Mia’s small face.
If he could shatter those lenses, if he could create enough chaos, perhaps he could grab Celeste and fight his way to the service elevators. It was a fool's hope, birthed from absolute desperation.
"Shut your mouth, Mia!" Adrian roared, abandoning his polished Mafia facade entirely.
Adrian lunges toward Mia’s spare glasses. He moved with explosive speed, his polished leather shoes digging into the carpet as he reached his large hands out, intending to rip the glasses from the child's face and silence her forever.
May you like
Mia screamed, covering her head with her arms.
But Rocco was already waiting. The veteran Mafia boss was a predator who had anticipated the prey's final, desperate twitch.
