CHAPTER 3

"No one is more dangerous than he who imagines himself pure in heart, for his purity, by definition, is unassailable." - James Baldwin

Piero Antonio POV

I leaned back in my leather chair, frustration etched across my face as the day's responsibilities weighed heavily on my shoulders. My office, a sanctuary of power and secrecy, was now disrupted by the news of an unpaid debt. Santino, my trusted second-in-command and my best friend since our training in Mafia, stood by my side, alert and attentive.

"Boss, there's a call from the warehouse," Santino informed me, his voice reflecting a mix of urgency and deference. He knew the importance of delivering information promptly, even in the midst of my intense focus on managing both legal and illegal enterprises.

"Give me the damn phone," I replied, my voice laced with authority and annoyance. I had little patience for interruptions, especially when it came to matters of debts and obligations.

As Santino handed me the phone, my grip tightened, a silent symbol of my resolve to deal with the situation swiftly and decisively.

"Pronto, cosa desideri?" I answered curtly, my annoyance thinly veiled. In this world, time was money, and every minute wasted on unnecessary conversations was a loss of potential profit.

(Hello, what do you want?)

"Boss, il signor Lambordi non ha pagato il suo debito nei nostri confronti ed è già in ritardo di un mese," my underboss relayed, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and frustration. The weight of unpaid debts threatened not only our financial stability but also our reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

(Boss, Mr. Lambordi has not paid his debt to us, and it's already one month overdue)

"Allora, fai il tuo maledetto lavoro e assicurati che capisca le conseguenze di sfidarci," I responded sharply, my impatience palpable. It was essential that my underlings understood the gravity of their responsibilities, especially when it came to enforcing our rules and collecting what was owed to us.

(Then you do your goddamn job and make sure he understands the consequences of crossing us)

"Abbiamo già minacciato lui, boss, ma insiste nel voler parlare direttamente con te, non importa cosa facciamo," my underboss explained, his tone indicating a hint of helplessness. The audacity of Mr. Lambordi to challenge our authority by seeking a personal audience with me fueled my anger further.

(We've already threatened him, boss, but he insists on speaking with you directly, no matter what we do)

"Maledetto stronzo," I muttered under my breath, my frustration mounting. I knew that this situation required my direct intervention. The audaciousness of Mr. Lambordi demanded a response that would teach him a lesson about the consequences of defiance.

(Fucking asshole)

"Gli farò vedere cosa si guadagna per avermi disturbato," I vowed, my voice seething with determination. With a firm grip on the receiver, I began devising a plan that would not only ensure the repayment of the debt but also send a chilling message to anyone who dared to cross the boundaries of my power.

(I'll show him what he gets for disturbing me)

In this world of shadows and deceit, I thrived on maintaining order through fear and respect. Every challenge, every obstacle, presented an opportunity to solidify my position as a formidable force in the criminal underworld. And Mr. Lambordi would soon discover the high price of crossing paths with a man like me.

As the plane soared through the sky, carrying me towards the sprawling metropolis of New York, I delved into the tasks that demanded my attention. The rhythmic hum of the engines provided a steady backdrop as I navigated the intricacies of my business empire.

With focused determination, I meticulously drafted emails and reviewed documents, ensuring that the wheels of my operations continued to turn smoothly in my absence. The digital realm became my conduit, bridging the gap between the physical and virtual realms of power.

My fingers danced across the keyboard, each stroke a testament to my meticulous nature. I dispatched messages to my trusted assistant, delegating responsibilities and providing clear instructions for the tasks at hand. Even from thousands of feet in the air, I maintained a firm grip on the pulse of my empire, leaving no room for oversight or weakness.

I leaned against the cold concrete wall of the warehouse, contemplating the news James had just relayed to me. Lambordi, a stubborn and defiant rival, was proving to be a thorn in my side. Negotiation was not a language I often entertained, but for the sake of maintaining peace and stability in my operations, I would play this game.

"Tell Lambordi that I am willing to hear what he has to say," I replied, my voice laced with a calculated mix of authority and intrigue. "Set up a meeting in a neutral location, somewhere we can ensure our safety and privacy."

James nodded, scribbling down notes on a small notepad, his unwavering loyalty evident in his eyes. He knew the stakes were high, and he understood the consequences of failure. In this world of power and treachery, trust was a rare commodity, and James had earned mine through years of unwavering dedication.

As he departed to set the wheels in motion, I took a moment to survey the warehouse, the hub of my operations in this sprawling city. The faint scent of cigarettes and grease lingered in the air, intermingling with the muted sounds of whispered conversations and the occasional clink of bottles.

I moved through the bustling space with an air of quiet authority, observing the well-oiled machinery of my empire in motion. The sight of my loyal soldiers, each with their own set of skills and specialties, instilled a sense of pride within me.

They were my family, my brothers and sisters in arms, ready to defend and execute my orders without question.

As the negotiations with Lambordi loomed, I knew that it was not just money and power at stake but also the delicate balance of respect and dominance within the criminal underworld. Every move had to be strategized, every word chosen with precision.

Days turned into nights, and nights into early mornings, as I meticulously prepared for the upcoming meeting. In the shadows of New York's underworld, alliances shifted like sand, and loyalty was a fragile thread that could unravel at the slightest hint of weakness.

Finally, the day of reckoning arrived. I stood in a dimly lit room, a table separating me from Lambordi, both of us surrounded by trusted associates who watched our every move with hawk-like intensity. The air crackled with tension as we locked eyes, a silent battle of wills commencing.

"Let us negotiate, Lambordi," I stated firmly, my voice echoing through the room. "But know that I am not one to be trifled with. Play your cards wisely."

In that tense and unsettling moment, the old man's audacious proposition hung in the air like a poisonous fog, but I refused to let his repugnant words tarnish my principles. Disgust, mingled with an overwhelming surge of anger, surged through every fiber of my being.

My voice reverberated with a mix of righteous fury and unyielding authority as I unleashed a verbal torrent upon the old man.

"You repulsive creature! How dare you degrade the sanctity of human life, reducing your own flesh and blood to mere commodities in a twisted attempt to absolve yourself of responsibility!" The intensity of my words echoed through the room, vibrating with a resolute determination to stand up against such depravity.

His prideful countenance wavered momentarily, his smile replaced by a look of astonishment and disbelief. Perhaps he never anticipated encountering someone who would refuse to compromise their values and succumb to the depths of his depravity.

Unable to tolerate any further interaction with such a contemptible individual, I swiftly drew the concealed weapon holstered at my waist. Time seemed to stand still for an infinitesimal moment as the room filled with the tension of imminent danger.

With a steady hand and unwavering resolve, I aimed and fired, a single bullet piercing the space between his eyes.

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the sound of the lifeless body collapsing to the floor. While I knew that my actions were irreversible and final, a profound sense of relief washed over me, as if I had eradicated a festering malignancy from the world.

With a chilling calmness, I turned to James, my trusted confidant, who had witnessed the entire ordeal. "Take these women to a place where they can begin anew, far away from the dark shadows cast by their past.

Provide them with the support and care they deserve," I instructed, my voice devoid of any discernible emotion.

As James assisted the trembling women out of the room, I reflected upon the dark underbelly of humanity that I had just confronted.

While I had extinguished a monstrous presence, I was acutely aware that the world still harbored countless individuals who would exploit the vulnerable and forsake their own flesh and blood.

After the unsettling incident, I returned to my luxurious residence in New York to cleanse myself of the repulsive stain of that excuse of human . Calling upon my maid, I requested a bottle of whiskey to be brought to my room, yearning for its numbing effects to help me unwind and refocus on the important tasks that lay ahead.

Engrossed in my work, the weight of responsibility bearing down upon me, I came across a file bearing the name of John Perez. He owed our organization a substantial sum of one million dollars, and the payment was due today. My eyes narrowed as I contemplated the repercussions of his failure to fulfill his obligations.

A knock echoed through the room, interrupting my thoughts. "Entra," I commanded in my deep, commanding Italian voice. Santino, one of my trusted associates, entered, clutching his phone tightly.

"Boss, the Casino Del Caruso requires your immediate presence. There are individuals causing havoc," Santino relayed with a sense of urgency.

"Tell them to handle it. Ever since I arrived here, people should be capable of carrying out their duties without constantly needing me. Useless individuals," I spat with anger lacing my words. "Prepare the car. I'll be down in a minute."

Taking a final sip of whiskey, I composed myself, allowing the fiery liquid to fuel my resolve.

As I strode into the casino, the tension in the room was palpable. My mere presence sent ripples of unease through the air, and my men, ever loyal, had their guns trained on a disheveled figure, exposing the dire circumstances that had unfolded.

My voice, laced with an icy detachment that instilled fear in those who heard it, cut through the silence like a surgeon's scalpel. "What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, my gaze piercing the room, seeking answers.

One of my men, his voice trembling slightly, stepped forward to provide an account of the situation. "Boss, this is Mr. Perez. He refuses to pay one of our clients the money he lost and, furthermore, has made threats against the client's life."

Fixing my unrelenting gaze upon John Perez, I made it clear that I was not a man to be trifled with. The weight of my presence bore down upon him, causing a visible gulp to travel down his throat.

"Mr. John Perez," I said, my voice low and measured. "It appears we have unfinished business of our own. You owe me a substantial sum of money, and it seems you have chosen to evade your obligations."

Tremors ran through his body, and his words stumbled out in a mixture of fear and desperation. "Mr. Caruso, please... I-I promise to repay you and your client. Just grant me a little more time, I beg of you."

A cold, calculating smile curved upon my lips, revealing neither mercy nor sympathy. I had learned long ago that such pleas were often empty promises, words woven together in a desperate attempt to escape the consequences of one's actions.

"Time," I replied, my tone devoid of any leniency. "Time is a precious commodity, Mr. Perez. But I have given you ample opportunities to fulfill your obligations, and you have squandered them. You see, I am a man who values honor and integrity, and I expect the same from those who enter into agreements with me."

With deliberate poise, I motioned to my men, signaling them to release their hold on Perez. As they stepped back, the atmosphere in the room shifted, anticipation mingling with fear, awaiting the fate that awaited John Perez.

"Consider this your final chance, Mr. Perez," I warned, my voice carrying an air of finality. "Repay your debts in full, both to my client and to me, within the agreed-upon timeframe. Failure to do so will result in dire consequences that you cannot fathom."

Leaving him to contemplate the gravity of his situation, I turned and walked away, the echo of my cold voice lingering in the room. The casino floor seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief as my presence dissipated, leaving behind an unspoken warning to all who crossed my path: honor your debts or face the relentless wrath of Caruso.