Chapter 103: Not back yet
Nico
"My phone?" I asked, standing by the lobby desk where I was supposed to receive my seized belongings, only to get the response I half expected.
"Your gun has been logged into evidence, and your phone was destroyed in the tussle. The money for it will be refunded to your account if you could please provide it," the woman on duty responded in a clipped, professional tone.
I didn’t provide it.
Instead, I turned and headed toward the entrance. Martin walked right behind me along with the rest of my men who had been released.
I had just stepped out when Martin spoke before I could.
"We can’t attack them in any form. We have too much media attention on us right now," he said, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
And he did.
At that point, I didn’t even care who the mastermind was. I just wanted to ruin every single police officer in the central city of Marcelle.
Who did they think they were?
Taking my money on a monthly basis and still stabbing me in the back without consequences.
What did I look like? A joke?
I was mad enough that it took everything in me not to explode. Instead, I forced myself to calm down and speak.
"What about Carmen? Has she been released?" I asked, pausing by the entrance and glancing back in case she came out after me.
"Yes, she was released first," Martin replied.
At that exact moment, we could already see the media and news reporters rushing toward us as we stood by the lower steps leading out of the station.
"Are you the murderer? You killed those people in cold blood!"
"There are rumors that you’re not actually a business CEO! Is it true that you’re a drug lord?"
"Nico Romano, what do you have to say? Are the police allegations wrong? Some say your companies are just as corrupt!"
They came at me all at once—loud, relentless, and desperate to draw even more attention than I already had.
But I simply stood there, hands in my pockets, lifting my head slightly as if looking at the sky, letting their voices wash over me like background noise.
"It’ll take a while, but the cars should be here soon," Martin muttered under his breath.
They hadn’t returned his phone either, but somehow, without money, he had still managed to get one.
Resourceful as always.
The voices only grew louder, sharper.
It would have been a lie to say they didn’t grate on every nerve I had.
They tried to shove past my bodyguards, who quietly but firmly pushed them back.
Breathe, Nico. This isn’t your first rodeo.
My eyes settled on a young man.
He wasn’t one of the reporters.
He was part of the small group of protesters gathered nearby.
And before anyone could react—
He threw a carton of milk straight at me.
It burst on impact, splashing across my clothes.
"You piece of shit drug lord!" he screamed, his voice raw. "You fucking killed my sister! How could you?"
The anguish on his face looked real.
Too real.
"Do you think you can get away with it? Do you? I won’t let you!" he continued shouting as the empty carton dropped to the ground.
The milk stained my shirt and jacket.
But there was no smell.
I said nothing.
Did nothing.
I simply glanced at Martin.
That single look was enough.
He understood immediately.
I had run out of patience.
"Have you been able to reach Carmen?" I asked, my voice even, though my thoughts were anything but.
She wouldn’t have taken a taxi and left if she knew I was still inside.
It didn’t make sense.
"No. She was most likely not allowed to take her phone out," Martin responded.
I nodded slowly, holding back a sigh.
The young man kept shouting.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Apparently, the three people who had been killed all had families.
Loved ones.
People who felt the weight of their loss.
A lot of them, too.
What a coincidence.
The moment the car arrived, I got in without hesitation, settling into the back seat while Martin took the front.
There was no need to give directions.
We were going back to the mansion.
"Have you called Gotti?" I asked.
Martin was already fiddling with the phone in his hand—the same one with the glittery pink case that definitely didn’t belong to him.
"Yes. His phone has been unreachable," he replied.
I leaned back into my seat, my gaze drifting out the window.
"If Gotti isn’t dead, then he’s dead to me," I said.
He had been the one to invite us.
The one who gave us the room number.
And yet, when everything went wrong, he was conveniently nowhere to be found.
It added up in ways that made it very unlikely he wasn’t involved.
"Keep trying to reach him," I continued. "I want an explanation as soon as possible."
"Yes, boss."
"I also got news that Bianca found her son, Kade," Martin added, his eyes still glued to the phone.
He had probably memorized every important number he needed by now.
"Dead or alive?" I asked, my gaze shifting briefly to the driver, who remained focused on the road.
I wasn’t particularly concerned.
The only thing tying Kade and me together was blood.
And even that was diluted.
"Alive," Martin replied. "But in a terrible state. It’ll take time for him to recover."
"As long as he has all his limbs, he should be fine," I said.
Though a part of me hoped he was missing at least one.
It might bring his arrogance down a notch.
I leaned back, closing my eyes briefly.
I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.
That wasn’t unusual.
But it still took its toll.
And there were too many things to deal with.
Too many problems to solve.
Punishing the officers and everyone involved was only one part of it.
Still, the last thing I expected was what greeted me when we got back.
I stepped out of the car, walked into the mansion, and was immediately met by the head of the estate.
"What do you mean she’s not back yet?" I asked.
And for the first time that day—
I hated the feeling that settled in my chest.
Dread.
