Claudia Ventresca violently ripped the flowering plant from four-year-old Ruby’s gardening-gloved hands

The heavy wrought-iron gates of the memorial garden clanged shut with a sickening finality. Gianni pulled a thick iron chain from the tool shed, wrapping it rapidly around the bars and snapping a heavy padlock into place. Matteo took up a position by the greenhouse doors, his hand resting casually on the grip of the submachine gun slung beneath his suit jacket. They were locked in.

Alessio stood beside the wooden planting tables, the silenced pistol resting loosely in his right hand. He picked up one of the black leather-bound ledgers from the lockbox and flicked it open. The pages were filled with meticulous, handwritten accounts. Bribes paid to politicians, laundering routes through legitimate construction firms, and, most damning of all, the precise payouts to the hitmen who had orchestrated his wife's murder.

"You kept the receipts," Alessio noted, a dark, humorless chuckle escaping his lips. "You betrayed your own blood, orchestrated a hit on my wife, and yet you couldn't resist the urge to keep a record of your treason so you could blackmail the Commission later. You are as greedy as you are stupid, Claudia."

"It's leverage!" Claudia spat, wiping a streak of blood and dirt from her cheek. "You think you rule this city, Alessio, but you are a dinosaur. The New York families are moving in. They wanted the ledgers destroyed today. If they find out you have them..."

"They won't," Alessio interrupted smoothly. "Because neither of you will be alive to tell them."

Marco struggled to his knees, clutching his ribs. "You pull that trigger, Alessio, and the men out there will hear it. Silencer or not, they’ll know something went wrong. They have orders to breach the garden if we don't return by two o'clock."

Alessio glanced at his heavy gold wristwatch. It was 1:55 PM. He had exactly five minutes before the garden became a warzone.

"Then I suppose we have five minutes to discuss the terms of your confession," Alessio said, stepping closer to Marco. "Who pulled the trigger? Give me a name, and I will make your death quick."

"Go to hell," Marco sneered, spitting a bloody glob onto Alessio’s polished shoes.

Alessio didn't blink. He raised the pistol and shot Marco directly in the right kneecap.

The silenced gunshot was a sharp thwip, followed immediately by the sickening crunch of bone. Marco’s arrogant facade evaporated instantly. He collapsed into the potting soil, shrieking in absolute agony, clutching his shattered leg as dark blood rapidly soaked his expensive trousers.

Claudia screamed, scrambling backward until her back hit the cold stone wall of the estate.

"I asked for a name, Marco," Alessio repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "The other knee goes in ten seconds."

"Salvatrice!" Marco howled, tears streaming down his face as he writhed in the dirt. "It was the Salvatrice brothers! They took the contract! Please, God, no more!"

Alessio nodded slowly. The Salvatrice brothers were mid-level enforcers for the Lucchese family out east. He filed the names away in the dark, vengeful vault of his mind.

"Thank you," Alessio said.

Before Marco could beg again, Alessio adjusted his aim and put a single bullet directly into the center of Marco's forehead. The enforcer's head snapped back, and he slumped lifelessly into the ruined flowers, his blood pooling into the earth.

Claudia clamped both hands over her mouth to muffle a hysterical scream. She stared at the lifeless body of her associate, her entire body shaking violently.

Alessio turned to her. He did not raise the gun, but the sheer, oppressive weight of his gaze pinned her to the wall just as effectively.

"Your turn, cousin," Alessio said softly.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the front of the estate. The ground beneath their feet trembled violently, and a plume of thick black smoke rose over the high brick walls. The muffled sounds of the luncheon were instantly replaced by the terrifying, staccato roar of automatic gunfire.